


Folding is the Hard Part

by uglyNicc



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Frottage, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, Roleplay, Slow Build, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/pseuds/uglyNicc
Summary: Axton, sick of bounty gigs on backwater planets, is working security on Helios while trying to figure out what path his life should take.Rhys is climbing the Hyperion corporate ladder, eager to earn the status and respect he deserves.How far can either of them get, though, with Jack pulling all the strings above them?





	1. Get that Exposition Outta my Face

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a writer by any stretch of the imagination but rarepair hell drove me to this and I am sorry for the trash fire this will likely be :'D 
> 
> Explicit rating for future chapters, will update tags as we go.
> 
> Story note: Rhys only has his cybernetic arm at this point.
> 
> Title from "Wildcard" by Mickey Valen

_Four. Wait, five? It’s not even lunch yet, how had it been five times already?_

He rolled his shoulders, armour clacking noisily as he stretched stiff muscles, eyes following the desk jockey hurrying past him for the fifth time that morning on his way to the men’s room at the end of the hall. 

Axton let out a frustrated groan. He was bored. Really bored.

Really, _really_ bored.  

Axton continued shifting restlessly at his post. Why some Hyperion dunce had decided this walkway needed a security presence at all was beyond him. Overlooking the Hub of Heroism, his eyes roamed over the crowd of office workers milling about below. Some sat on benches beneath the clinically pruned greenery, while others filed into lines at one of the coffee and food kiosks below. 

Hardly a scene calling for the expertise of an ex-Dahl military man. And yet here he was, clad in thick yellow armour from head to toe, guarding a bunch of Helios douchebags from paper cuts and finger guns, wielding a sleek Hyperion shotgun that’d never been fired. 

Axton groaned again under his helmet, this time earning a glare from Five Time Bathroom Guy, who was making his way back to wherever he’d come before nature called. Axton resisted the urge to flip him the bird, but only barely. He did not handle boredom well, and his mood was souring by the minute. 

His heavy boots thudded against the sleek metal floor as he propelled himself forward into a routine patrol. The route was burned into his muscle memory, he could walk it in his sleep. Down the elevator, left turn towards the exec floor elevator, circle round and through the Hub, weaving through the hallways that branched out towards cubicle mazes, before making a U-turn and taking the same elevator back up to the post he’d had nothing better to do than monitor the tiny bladders of office workers. 

The short elevator ride down ended with a low chime. Axton started his route, veering left, and almost collided with a small entourage of stoney faced men and women in white lab coats flowing behind them as they rushed past. Axton followed a respectable distance behind, partly out of curiosity as their dress was slightly different than that of the scientists relegated to other levels of Helios, partly due to that fact their destination appeared to be the exec elevators as well. 

A couple of the entourage cast suspicious glances behind them, scowling at the lumbering mass of yellow armour thudding along behind them. _Get off my route then bitches_ , Axton thought to himself irritably as he trudged along in their wake. As they came to a halt before the exec elevator, Axton realized there was a small black case in the centre of the group, suspended in midair by lengths of faintly glowing purple chains connected to each one of their wrists.

Before he had time to wonder what was in the box, and who the hell these labrats were, the body scan sensor lit up with a mechanical whirl. The doors of the elevator opened with a chime, and the case was hidden from view as the group filed into the elevator. The familiar feminine voice called out “Cleared for entry to CEO offices, going up” before the doors slid shut and the elevator sped upward through glass tubing. 

With a shrug, Axton continued his patrol. 

He scoured the crowd for trouble, knowing full well he’d be lucky if a scuffle broke out at one of the coffee shops over the last danish. In the short time he’d been stationed here, the most action he’d seen had been breaking up a fight between several over-caffinated accountants over the last drakefruit crumble muffin. Ok, drakefruit was delicious and had to be imported up from Pandora, so there was that air of luxury that came with rarity, but c’mon. It was a goddamned muffin. 

A loud cry some distance away brought Axton to immediate attention. His pace quickened as he searched for the source. A small crowd had gathered a few meters away, with more curious onlookers breaking off to join the growing wall of staff effectively blocking the disturbance from view. Axton made his way over and easily started clearing a path through the bystanders, the shouting of two male voices becoming clearer the closer he got. 

_Don’t be a finger gun fight, don’t be a finger gun fight…_

There was the unmistakable dull thud of a fist connecting with flesh, eliciting gasps along with a few scattered outbursts of laughter from the audience. 

 _Not a finger gun fight!_ Axton exclaimed in silent triumph as he finally elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. This was shaping up to be a slightly less mundane shift than usual, at least. 

“What’s goin’ on here?” He boomed in his best I Can Beat You Within an Inch of Your Life voice. 

Sensing the end of the spectacle, the excited chatter died out and people immediately began to disperse, leaving Axton with one very angry and one very knocked-on-his-ass office worker. The angry worker loomed menacingly over the one on the floor, visibly shaking with rage, fists balled, teeth grit as he spat “You son of a bitch! That was my deal you —!“

His words were cut off by a yowl of pain. The man on the floor, wet crimson running from his nose down to his chin, struck out a gangling leg, landing a kick to the angry worker’s shin with a resounding _thwack_.

With both men on the floor, Axton holstered his weapon and barked “That’s enough. Get up!” When they made no movement to stand and continued nursing their respective injuries, he grabbed each by the shirt collar to bring them roughly to their feet. “Move it, assholes.” 

The two allowed themselves to be dragged along as Axton briskly marched them to the nearest security office. The man on his left, the one with the nosebleed, had to stoop slightly as Axton all but dragged them along, his long legs bent at an awkward angle as he stumbled along.

Happy to take a fist fight over a finger gun battle any day, Axton still felt like an over-equipped babysitter escorting a couple of grown-ass men through the halls of Helios. It wasn’t like he’d expected to run guns blazing into some elaborate hostage situation or anything, but he’d hoped for more of a challenge. 

“This is QR-0-77, Central do you copy?” The HUD in his helmet lit up at mention of his badge number, a tiny blue dot popping into view in the top right corner of his vision to show the open connection to Central Security. “Loud and clear, QR-0-77” a bored voice drawled in his ear. “What’s your status?” 

“Got a couple of troublemakers near the Hub, taking them to Security Office H-03 for processing. Gonna need someone to cover my post.” Stopping abruptly at their destination, the wall scanner fired up with another mechanical whirl as a quick scan determined Axton had clearance. 

“Sending QR-0-93 to cover your post” the voice sighed, sounding incredibly put out. “Report back when QR-0-93 can be relieved.” 

Axton grunted in response, flinging his quarry through the open door of the Secuirty Office as the blue dot on his HUD blinked off.

Both men stumbled as they were herded further into the dimly lit room, the blue glow emanating from a wall of surveillance screens the main source of light in the enclosed space. Free of Axton’s grip, the Angry worker lunged towards the man he’d punched earlier. Axton kicked out his boot and put an end to that nonsense as the worker tripped and fell bodily to the floor.

“You, over there,” Axton nudged him with his boot, pointing him toward a bench in one of the open holding cells along the opposite wall. “Sit your ass down and cool off. Not gonna tell you again, bud.” Hauling himself up, the worker lumbered over and sank down on the bench, rubbing his shin gingerly. Axton turned his attention to the man who’d been socked in the face earlier.

He was about the same height as Axton, though currently his head was down, buried in the elbow of his shirt sleeve in attempts to stop the steady flow of blood. “Alright, I saw that kick —“ The man gave a muffled snort, grimacing at the wet sound it made — “But you seem a bit calmer than that guy. Once we get you cleaned up maybe you can tell me why you boys resorted to fisticuffs.”

Axton grabbed a box of tissues off a nearby desk and thrust it at the young man’s face. “Thanks,” came a muffled reply as he dropped the now ruined sleeve to grab an offered tissue. There was still blood smeared under his nose and his bottom lip was swollen, sure to bruise. All in all it didn’t look as bad as the copious amount of blood had made it seem. As the worker attempted to curb the continued ebb of blood out his nose, Axton stepped back to look him over;

Emaculately sculpted hair that had remarkably escaped the scuffle unscathed, cybernetic arm in Hyperion yellow, perfectly tailored slacks loosely hugging long legs.  

Axton was glad he still had his helmet on as it partially obscured the low whistle he let loose. 

Past the miles of leg, his eyes fell on the low-heeled, pointed-toe skag skin boots and chuckled. “No wonder that guy went down after one kick,” Axton snorted. “Kick with one of those bad boys is bound to smart.” The man stopped scrubbing his face with the tissue, fixing Axton with a smug grin. “But I still want to know what the hell got into you two.”

“If Rhys had minded his own fucking business—!!” Axton turned with a growl at the outburst. “I told you to calm down buddy, or so help me I’ll lock you in there for the rest of the day.” The man’s mouth flapped in soundless outrage before clamping shut. Axton turned back to the other man. “Rhys? That you?” 

Rhys nodded curtly. “Stevens confronted me on my way to grab a coffee, started shouting at me in the the Hub. I —“ He faltered, eyes darting over Axton’s shoulder, brows knitted. “I took over a deal he’d been working on and he wasn’t too happy about it. Hence the punching.” 

Stevens was still, but his breath rattled through his nose noisily as he tried to restrain the rage boiling within. “Took Over, huh? That’s the word you’re going with?” A humourless laugh escaped him as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands coming together under his chin defiantly raised toward Rhys. “Took over. Stole. Whatever.”

His eyes were steely, and Axton was involuntarily impressed. He wondered if all Hyperion workers had this vicious streak flowing just beneath the surface. He’d seen a lot of assholes, dealt with a lot of arrogant pricks in the weeks he’d been on the space station, but this was the first time he’d seen unrestrained, bloodthirsty hatred. 

“I’d watch my back, if I were you, Rhys.” Stevens dragged out the end of Rhys’ name, the serpentine sound hanging in the silence that followed. 

“Alright, alright,” Axton’s boots thumped towards the cell. “You got issues with co-workers you go to HR, you don’t slug it out in front of the whole station. Stevens, let’s say I don’t lock ya in there for causing a disturbance if you march right back to your cubicle without another word.” Stevens stared down at his polished black shoes, expression unreadable as he gave a shallow nod. Axton stepped aside and gestured to the door with a flourish of his arm. “I mean it pal, one more peep and I swear—“ Stevens rose and cut a brisk line to the door, his back ramrod straight as he left without another look at Rhys. 

Rhys ignored his coworker's passing completely, looking to Axton hopefully. “Same deal? I mean, I can go too, right? I was the punched, not the puncher, after all.”

“Not yet,” Axton answered, steering Rhys by the shoulders into one of the swivel chairs in front of the surveillance wall. “You still look a little worse for wear.”

Axton left Rhys to dab at the stubborn trickle of blood that continued out his nose, and rummaged through the first aid cabinet until he found a small tub of pink-tinged ointment, and a palm-sized pack filled with blue gel. He gave the pack a few quick squeezes. Had his hand not been protected by layers of armoured plates, Axton knew the pack would now be cold to the touch.

Rhys, who seemed to have succeeded in stopping the bloodflow with the now dazzlingly scarlet hunk of tissue held gingerly between two fingers, looked up quizzically as he dropped the useless tissue in the trash chute cut into the wall. Axton dragged a chair over and dropped heavily into it, shuffling closer to Rhys. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit.”

Leaning in slightly, Axton pressed the cold pack against Rhys’ swollen lower lip. “So. Just another day at the office, huh?” Rhys let out a weak laugh, his body tensing slightly at the touch of cold. “Yeah, I’ll take my jabs in passive aggressive ECHO messages over getting socked in the face any day.”

Axton chuckled, the sound muffled by his helmet. “That seems more the norm ‘round here, hand-to-hand doesn’t seem like the go-to for conflict resolution ‘round Helios. I wouldn’t trust most of ya to carry a stack of post-its without hurting yourselves.”

Rhys frowned, wincing slightly as the movement stretched the injured corner of his mouth. “I can carry post-its just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” Axton answered, his helmet doing little to hide the amusement in his voice. “But maybe learn how to block before you go toe to toe with any more of your office pals,” he said, setting the cool pack on a nearby desk as he unscrewed the cap on the ointment before undoing the clasps on his armour to free his hand. “Fair enough,” Rhys replied, mouth twitching up into a lopsided grin as he tried not to move the injured corner of his lip.

The two fell to silence as Axton applied a thin layer of the milky pink substance to where the damage looked worst. The skin hadn’t broken but was definitely starting to bruise. The medicated ointment would minimize that and the swelling of the smooth skin beneath Axton’s calloused fingers.

Rhys did his best to remain still, though Axton knew from experience that this stuff tingled something fierce when you got battered up. In the military, he hadn’t spent much time on field medic training, but had enough to patch up something as trivial as a bloody nose and fat lip. 

His training. Where and it gotten him? Since heeding the advice of his wife - he frowned - his ex-wife, and high-tailing it off any planet with a hint of Dahl military presence, Axton had drifted from one bounty gig to another, planet jumping in search of bigger and nastier outlaws to take down. It had been a welcome change from the rigidity of military life, a breath of fresh air he drank in greedily. He was free, free to claim the rewards as efficiently or as messily as he saw fit.

But it and gotten old fast. 

Plus, he smiled darkly, he’d underestimated how much cash he’d blown on explosives. 

With most of the ointment slaved over the tender flesh, Axton wiped his fingers and brought his other, still armoured hand up to clasp lightly over Rhys’ chin. Tilting his face from side to side, Axton examined the damage. The swelling had definitely gone down, though there was the shadow of a bruise forming that the ointment couldn't completely fix.

Rhys seemed to have gotten all the blood cleaned up, his face bore no sign of the nosebleed. Tilting the chin in his hand back to centre, Axton stole a quick look at the warm caramel colour of Rhys’ eyes before dropping his hand.  

“All done, Darlin’. That pretty face can go back to civilized cubicle life.” Axton didn’t miss the faint burst of colour that rose to Rhys’ checks. “Though that shirt of yours has seen better days.” Rhys grimaced as he caught sight of the now dry blood staining his forearm.

“Gross,” he muttered, trying in vain to roll up the sleeve with his robotic arm in an effort to hide the unsightly mess in the folds of fabric. Axton raised a brow behind his helmet, eyes travelling over the expanse of smooth, tattooed-blue flesh that continued up under the rolled up sleeve. 

“Thanks again,” Rhys said, smoothing down his vest and slacks as he rose. He ran a hand ran over his still-perfectly set hair with his tattooed arm, the bright blue patterns drawing Axton’s eye with each movement. 

Axton bit down a lewd inquiry as to just how much of Rhys’ body was covered in tattoos; sure, he didn’t take this job particularly seriously most days, but he also didn’t want to be a creep to one of the few staff on this space station that, apparent betrayal of a co-worker aside, seemed to be a somehwat decent person.

Axton hadn’t failed to notice the vast majority of Hyperion were all too eager to treat those on lower rungs of the corporate ladder like dirt under their fingernails. As part of Helios security, Axton was only slightly above janitorial staff in the eyes of most he encountered. Rhys though, seemed refreshingly unperturbed dealing so closely with someone so far down the food chain. 

The door of the security room slid shut behind them as they stepped back into the simulated sunlight radiating down on them. “You gonna be ok, or you need an armed escort back to your desk?” 

He’d mostly asked as a joke, but the question caused Rhys to frown again, and Axton internally smacked himself for finding the expression endearing as all hell. “I’ll be fine,” Rhys answered, sounding confident enough but with a hint of uncertainty edging his tone, as if his words were an attempt to convince himself as well.

“I don’t think he’ll try anything like that again. Plus if he does,” Rhys' leg bent at the knee as he extended his boot and gave it a cheeky waggle. “I’ll aim for his balls next time.” 

Axton chuckled. He clapped a hand onto Rhys’ shoulder, the heavy weight of it throwing Rhys off balance as he hastily sought to plant his two feet back on the metal floor. “Take care of yourself, Darlin’.” He gave Rhys’ shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll be around if anyone needs a beat down.” 

With a nervous laugh and affirmative nod, Rhys was off, swallowed up by the lunch hour crowd that had started spilling into the Hub of Heroism.

Axton watched him go, eyes guiltily lingering a little too long on Rhys’ ass. 

 _Well at least today hasn’t totally sucked,_ Axton thought wryly, rolling his shoulders as he radioed Central and headed back to his post.  

 

~

 

“Meg, get Janitorial up here, now. ‘Code Jack.’ And also some hot wings. With that dipping sauce I like.”

“S-sir?”

He grit his teeth. “Hot wings Meg, I’m hungry as hell. Get a move on, sweetcheeks, before one of us dies. And spoiler, it won’t be me.” 

Jack took his finger off the intercom and sank petulantly into his chair. He rubbed at his temples, practiced fingers avoiding bumping the clasps of his mask. Once this mess was cleaned up he’d feel better, he told himself.

He cast a resentful glare over the wet pile bodies in the centre of his office. Goddamn idiots, didn’t even have the decency to stand over the trapdoor so he could just drop them all like kitchen scraps through a garbage disposal. 

Kicking his feet onto the desk, Jack toed the sleek black case resting atop it as he crossed one leg over the other. Broken lengths of chain trailed over the edges of his desk, some more blood-splattered than others, thin trails of blood like snake tracks in sand weaving out from the pile of corpses on the floor.   

Jack was not an unreasonable man, despite all evidence to the contrary. He had kept his eye on this relatively unknown tech company for months, while at the same time evaluating his own R&D department to make a final judgement on who would be awarded the project he had been cooking up. 

Begrudgingly, he found that Hyperion lacked the specific technical expertise to concoct the prototype he wanted. He felt confident he alone had the code and protocols locked down for what he had in mind, however that was only the first piece of the puzzle, and he didn’t much like the idea of this next piece being developed outside the tight control he kept over Helios. 

In the end, he’d approached the tech group, who had jumped at the chance, and accepted Jack’s extensive privacy and work terms with few complaints. Contracts were drawn, ink dried, and work began at a fever pace, with Jack checking in often, keeping a close eye on his investment.

Depending on how well they performed, he graciously threw in a clause allowing the group to be absorbed into the Hyperion Corporation upon completion, in which they’d receive all the funding and resources to continue making their unusual contraptions and gimmicks under the Hyperion brand, the vast resources and funding the CEO could offer at their fingertips.

Months went by, and progress reports were glowing as the work proceeded smoothly. 

Until the group got ballsy. 

 _We need more resources. We need more time. We need more funds._  

Jack snorted at the memory. He had been menacing at their regular check-ins, but still rather accommodating to their demands. At first. To get what he wanted, Jack saw the benefits of making expenditures where needed. The group had pushed their luck, testing Jack’s patience with their needling for more and more as they became more confident in the success and importance of their work. 

A loud buzz from the intercom broke his thoughts. “Maintenance is here, sir.” There was a long pause before Meg’s voice continued hurriedly, an edge of panic lacing her voice, “And your hot wings are on the way. Sir!” The last word was all but squeaked as the intercom cut out.

Jack sighed and mashed the door release button on his desk with one of his feet. _Christ_ , he thought, one of his eyes twitching slightly, watching the doors of his office swinging open slowly, _I need a new PA, like fricken yesterday._

The head of Janitorial, a muscular, square-jawed woman named Brook, entered the office with three cleaners in tow. As per the “Code Jack,” Brook and two others had large tanks strapped to their backs fitted with hoses of varying widths and nozzles, while another wheeled along a large dumpster-like container. Without a hint of surprise or disgust, the staff got to work in clearing the corpses and stray chunks of carnage, hosing down and polishing the floor back to it’s usual pristine shine. 

With a grunt, two of the crew wheeled the now full dumpster away, while Brook and another worker ensured everything had been cleaned, sanitized and polished. Satisfied, Brook turned to Jack and gave the CEO a curt nod before following the dumpster and rest of her crew out.

Brook had been head of Janitorial for some years, and Jack always ensured she received a handsome raise during annual performance reviews. The woman had more guts than half the execs that preened and pawed after Jack’s approval, and she was damn good at her work. Never let it be said that Jack was not generous when it came to rewarding a job well done.

As the office doors swung slowly shut behind the cleaning crew, Jack’s gaze turned to the now immaculate floor. Yes, Jack was generous. To a point. 

Today had been months in the making, and Jack had been fully ready to welcome the techies to the Hyperion family with open arms, and tick one more thing off his list to get this pet project off the ground.

That was before the assholes had demanded twice the amount of the final payment that had been agreed on before handing the case over. 

Jack couldn’t believe how so many smart people had made such a dumbass decision. But he made sure it was their last.

The intercom buzzed again. 

_Fricken FINALLY._

Meg all but ran across the office, heels clacking loudly, to deposit the steaming plate of wings onto his desk, careful not to disturb the box and tendrils of chain atop it. Jack swung his legs off the desk and dug in ravenously to the wings, chomping noisily. 

“Fer chrissake ‘eg,” Jack groaned around the mouthful of food, feeling more than seeing Meg hovering at his shoulder, wringing her hands nervously. “The ‘ell I pay oo for. Git back t’ work.”

“Oh — Y-yes, if…if that will be all. Sir!” Jack continued digging into his meal as Meg left hurriedly, slipping slightly over the freshly polished floor as she rushed out. As the doors swung shut once again, Jack ripped into the remaining wings with vigour. Nothing like slaughtering a bunch of over-confident dickwads to work up an appetite.  

Jack licked his fingers, eyes scouring the desktop for a napkin and seeing that Meg had forgotten one. “For crying out loud…every single time,” Jack muttered, licking his fingers clean as best he could, like a goddamned house cat, before wiping them against his pant legs irritably. He had enough to do without looking for a new assistant, which was the only reason Meg still had a job. 

Hunger sated, Jack’s mood improved and was moving on to the next task at hand. He pushed the case aside and switched on his holomonitor, fingers flying over the glowing blue keys as he accessed Hyperion personnel records. The CEO had three candidates flagged, whittled down from the dozen he’d started with months ago.    

The first was an obvious choice, vice-head of robotics. Jack eyed her employment records; she boasted an impressive list of advancements to Hyperion’s robotics division over the years, but Jack was reluctant to pull her out of her current position. He might bring her on board to fine tune whatever he may need down the road, but knew he’d be hard pressed to find anyone more competent to work in robotics. Still, he wanted to keep his options open, and she was definitely still a contender. 

The next candidate was some mailroom goon who’d gone a different route to the top. This guy had dabbled in everything from blackmail to bribery to get what he needed. The guy had gotten some cybernetic work done as well, though Jack wasn’t sure what benefits a golden robot pinkie could possibly have other than to wave it around like some stupid trophy. His resourcefulness and willing to get his hands dirty was what had singled him out, but Jack had the nagging feeling he knew this clown from somewhere, though the name on his records rang no bells.

The fact that this guy played dirty, or at least dirtier than most Hyperion staff, was both a boon and major liability, and there were risks involved that Jack wasn’t yet sure he was willing to take. 

The last candidate was the youngest. Jack had singled him out based on the cybernetic work he’d already undergone; a full arm, but the kid had healed remarkably quickly from the procedure, and adapted to the tech almost effortlessly, if the attached physio records were to be believed. That alone was enough to put him on Jack’s list, though the CEO was pleasantly surprised to see he wasn’t a total idiot either, judging by the growing list of achievements to his name. 

A small alert blinked in the corner of his profile. Frowning, Jack opened the amendment, which turned out to be an addition to his records processed by his department head earlier today. Apparently, the kid had secured an Eridium mining deal, guaranteeing Hyperion a sizeable supply of the element for the foreseeable future. Which seemed weird as this kid was a code monkey, from what Jack could see.

He kept scrolling, and saw two other names attached to the deal. Still, Jack was mildly impressed. That was no small feat, and Jack wouldn’t turn his nose up at a fresh supply of the purple stuff. 

The CEO leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his masked face, eyes fixed on the three employee records on screen. 

He’d waited a damn long time for the prototype to be completed by those greedy little idiots.

And Handsome goddamned Jack didn’t plan on waiting much longer.  
  
  
~   
  
  
((End of Chapter 1, be gentle :'D))


	2. Exactly What You Think It Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys probably shouldn't dedicate this much thought to a man whose face he's never seen

“To the things we did not haunting our dreams each night!”

“What the hell kind of toast is that, Vaughn?”

“Just shut up and drink, you guys.”

Rhys, Yvette and Vaughn sat at the bar of one of the Helios employee lounges. Clinking their glasses together, they sipped the sparkling drink, the subtle sweetness bubbling pleasantly on Rhys’ tongue.

It’d been a little over a week since the Eridium mine deal had gone through, and they’d each received a decent increase to their respective salaries. Rhys, being the pointman on the deal, was also getting a commission on top of a raise. Sure, it was something like 0.003% on net value of Eridum shipped to Helios, but with the amount of the element being processed he was still pleasantly surprised when he'd checked his bank account. 

“C’mon guys, we earned this,” Yvette said, her champagne flute clasped between manicured fingers. For their night out, she wore a simple white pantsuit with no accessories other than her usual red-rimmed glasses. Rhys admired how she looked effortlessly at ease, while he, on the other hand, wished he felt more comfortable in the outfit he’d taken an hour to pick out. He pulled at the collar of his light grey dress shirt, the silver watch on his wrist catching the light as he undid the top button with his flesh hand.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow at him, emptying his glass with a deep swig. Rhys hadn’t noticed that in addition to his squirming, he was nervously tapping the heel of one of this freshly polished boots against his barstool. “Nothing. I just..." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with his best friend. "I gotta turn in kinda early tonight.”

Vaughn paused mid-refill, replacing the bottle back on the counter with a thud. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose with a groan. “Bro. No. This is the one night, the _one night_ I don’t have to stay late helping with payroll.”  

Rhys sighed in genuine apology. It had been hard planning a get together between their packed schedules, and he knew he was committing a major Friend Faux Pas by bailing early. “Sorry Vaughn, I know we were doing this tonight, but I have a meeting with the department head tomorrow morning.” 

Yvette raised an eyebrow. “Just you?”

“Don’t think so. But it’s not for our entire division, unless they plan on cramming all of us into Robinson’s office. I mean, it’s a nice office but —”

The grumpy scowl instantly slipped off Vaughn’s face. “You’re not…in trouble…are you Rhys?” he asked, looking around apprehensively. Golden bulbs dangled from the lounge ceiling, bathing the wood slab bar top and brown leather of booths lining the walls in a soft, inviting glow. Nothing around them warranted the alarm on Vaughn's face.

“What? No! Why?” Rhys fumbled over his words. Truth be told, worry had stubbornly been gnawing away at him all afternoon. When it popped up on his holomonitor after lunch, the meeting invite carried no details other than the time and place. Initially, Rhys had felt an exhilarating surge of self-importance as he accepted the appointment into his calendar. As the day wore on though, with no hint of what to expect or how to prepare, he had started to get anxious.

Shoving his own trepidation aside, Rhys hit Vaughn with his most dazzling Hyperion smile. “C’mon bro, it’s nothing! Besides,” he raised his glass again, “we’re supposed to be celebrating!”

Vaughn smiled, returning the gesture, whether because he was genuinely convinced there was nothing to fear, or because he could tell Rhys wanted to change the subject.  

They settled into easy conversation, chatting and joking as the bottle emptied between them. Rhys nursed his drinks cautiously, not wanting to deal with a hangover. Like a nervous tick, he checked his watch often, hyper-aware of the time, wanting to get home at a decent hour. The bartender cleared their empty champagne bottle and brought Vaughn and Yvette beer and cocktails. Rhys moved on to water, comfortably buzzed already.

As the night cycle wore on, Vaughn and Yvette emptied glass after glass with no sign of slowing. Yvette, who was historically better at holding her liquor, was retaining her poise and wobbling only slightly in her seat. Vaughn, on the other hand, was hunched over the bar, giggling into a small dish of salted nuts. When talk of dancing came up, Rhys knew it was time to make his exit. 

“C’mon Rhys,” Yvette grumbled as he led her down the corridor connecting the lounge to the central bank of elevators. Yvette had started dancing on the spot, stilettos clicking tunelessly against the floor. She may not be as drunk as Vaughn, Rhys thought, but she was tipsy enough that her dancing looked more like the shuddering of a damaged Loaderbot.

Vaughn, who had run off to the men’s room, stumbled back towards them, stopping just short of bowling over Yvette. He stared down at her shimmying feet with the look of someone faced with a difficult math equation. “How are you still *hic* still walking in those?”

Rhys let loose an exasperated groan as the two suddenly ran off back towards the lounge, Vaughn demanding Yvette let him literally try walking in her shoes. Getting his friends to the elevator was proving much more difficult than anticipated. 

Yvette’s face was pinched as she sidestepped Vaughn’s attempts to grab her legs. “Vaughn stop — _stop it!_ This is embar—“

”C’mon Yvette! I just wanna try! You afraid I’ll look better in ‘em than you? Huh!? *hic* COWARD!?”

The novelty of being the sober one had completely worn off at this point. Changing tactics, Rhys jabbed the elevator call button and yelled down the corridor “Lunch is on me tomorrow if you both get your asses over here right now!”

Both Vaughn and Yvette stopped dead in their tracks, and Rhys laughed despite himself as they obediently sauntered over, just as the centermost elevator arrived. The doors had barely finished opening before Rhys herded them in. He pressed the button for the nightclub two floors down, and for the hab suite level on the lower decks for his and Vaughn’s shared apartment.

Vaughn, who had been swaying slightly, was thrown off balance when the elevator began to move. He teetered forward, falling gracelessly into the button panel. When he righted himself, Rhys grit his teeth as he saw no less than twenty buttons lit up between here and his apartment. 

“Heh…Oops.”

Rhys rubbed at his eyes, inhaling deeply. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just get out at the next floor and take a different elevator home.” 

Yvette hiccuped loudly as she examined a piece of lint she’d picked off her suit. “You can’t. It’s a weeknight, right?” 

Rhys stared at her blankly before realization slowly dawned on him. “No,” he mouthed in horror, eyes snapping to his watch. He was appalled to see that it had taken over twenty minutes to get his drunk friends from the lounge to the elevator, and it was now past midnight. “They shut the other ones off this late during the week,” she continued idly, flicking the piece of lint away, oblivious to Rhys’ growing ill temper.

The doors slid open at the next floor, soft tinkling jazz drifting in from the swanky piano bar. Rhys caught Vaughn’s shirt sleeve as he made to get out. “Next one, bro” Rhys signed, suddenly very tired. 

“Thanks, bro,” Vaughn staring up happily at Rhys from where he wobbled.

Rhys smiled weakly. “Don’t mention it, bro.”

The thrum of bass pounded in his chest when the doors opened next. Outside the elevator, he spotted just a handful of Hyperion employees, unrecognizable in club wear ranging from trendy to tacky, hanging around outside the nightclub doors. On weekends, there was usually a line to get in, but the weeknight crowd was considerably more sparse.

Vaughn hooted and stumbled out towards the blaring music. Rhys looked to Yvette wearily. “You guys good?” he asked, fingers of his robotic hand crossed behind his back that Yvette, tipsy but lucid, wouldn’t ask for help taking care of Vaughn. 

She straightened her glasses as she stepped out. “I’ll get him home after we have our fun, don’t worry.” Giving a lazy wave over her shoulder, she walked a more or less straight line to the club entrance. 

Rhys signed heavily as the doors slid shut once more. Not quite resigned to his fate, he tried mashing the “Help” button, thinking some unseen elevator attendant might fast-track him home, but an automated voice informed him that this elevator was functioning properly and would reach his destination shortly. Groaning, Rhys slumped against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Dropping steadily further from the entertainment levels, his ears rang with the sudden quiet. He had a comical number of floors to hit before reaching the habitation suites, and at each stop when the elevator doors parted, Rhys was greeted with dimmed lights and the occasional maintenance bot buffing floors, each level identical in it’s emptiness. Compared to the bustling pulse of activity during the day cycle, this sleeping Helios was completely alien to Rhys. It felt abandoned, smothering in it’s silence. 

And it was creeping him out just a little. 

As the doors yawned open yet again, Rhys was startled by a shock of vibrant yellow. Heavy foot falls echoed loudly as a Security Officer stepped over the threshold. The guard turned to the button panel and paused, hand hovering above the cheery rows of lit up buttons. A hearty laugh bounced off the walls of the enclosed space.

“Going down, Darlin’?” 

Rhys’ eyes widened slightly. Even muffled by the helmet, he instantly recognized the playful voice of the Security Officer who had broken up the fight with Stevens. He hadn’t run into the guard since, but his mood improved with the company. 

“Looks like,” he laughed. His cheeks were still slightly flushed from the drink earlier, and warmed slightly at the guard's teasing. “You working the night cycle or something?” 

The guard leaned casually against the wall, body angled toward Rhys. “A double. Was heading off duty when I got called down to R&D.” Rhys frowned. “But there’s only skeleton crews working down there at this time of night.” The guard chuckled darkly, and Rhys could almost feel the lofty grin under the helmet. 

“I dunno what’s down there, but the call that came in said something about ‘miniature breed of stalkers.’”

Rhys blanched. “That sounds….fun?” He knew Hyperion funnelled a lot of funds into research and development, but he was usually happy not knowing what exactly they got up to.

The guard barked out another laugh. His helmet bobbed up and down slowly as he looked Rhys over without any hint of subtlety.  
  
_Smooth,_ Rhys thought, barely concealing a snort.  

“Lookit you, all dressed up. Don’t even see any blood on ya this time.” The doors slid open on another deserted floor, though neither of them gave much notice. 

“It would have clashed with the ensemble,” Rhys joked with a sly smile. 

The guard leaned forward, just shy of invading Rhys’ personal space. “Doubt it. Would look just as pretty on you as those tattoos you’re sportin’.” He motioned toward Rhys’ neck, the stark black circles peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Feeling the guard’s gaze on the smooth expanse of his throat brought an unexpected bloom of warmth in Rhys’ gut. 

_Would it be rude to ask him to take his helmet off?_  He'd never once seen any Hyperion Security staff wandering around without their helmets. Rhys doubted this guard would object, but he assumed being partially out of uniform while on duty was cause for some sort of disciplinary action, so he bit back his curiosity. 

Rhys swallowed, changing subjects. “I, uh, didn’t get your name, when you helped me out last time.” 

The guard leaned back against the wall. “Don’t see any fresh bruises on you, so seems like you’ve behaved yourself,” he teased in that same easygoing tone so at odds with the imposing figure he cut in his heavy armour. The guard extended his hand. “And it’s Axton.” 

“Axton,” Rhys held out his flesh hand, the metal plates of Axton's glove cool against his palm as they shook hands. Suddenly, as if Rhys’ touch had turned him to stone, Axton’s whole body froze. The seconds ticked by and Axton didn't move, hand still clasped over Rhys’ smaller palm. Rhys was about to ask what was wrong when a loud _clang_ rang out as Axton gave a whack to the side of his helmet with his free hand. 

“Sorry. Someone radioed up from R&D and just started screaming. Damn near blew out my eardrum.”

Rhys stared at him mutely, a mix of disbelief and concern twisting his thin features. Axton chuckled. “No worries, guy's probably just takin’ on some of those mini stalker things. I cut the audio, all good.”

“None of what you just said sounds good,” Rhys replied. He was suddenly very aware that R&D was only a few levels up from the employee living quarters, which seemed an odd design choice, one that was more than a little alarming under the current circumstances. 

He felt an armoured thumb trace a slow circle on the back of his hand before Axton finally let it fall from his grasp. It was light enough a touch that Rhys convinced himself he’d imagined it, though admittedly, he hoped he hadn’t. Axton was undeniably charming, even sight unseen.  

“Those guys can handle themselves. Usually. But hell,” Axton started, patting his holstered weapon affectionately. “I may actually get to use this babe for the first time tonight.” 

Rhys gave a start as they reached R&D, the sudden, jarring blare of alarms announcing their arrival as the doors parted. He hadn’t realized just how many floors they'd slipped past. Axton placed his hand on Rhys’ shoulder, giving it the same squeeze that ended their first encounter, though again Rhys wondered if he just imagined the touch lingering longer, holding a little tighter this time. 

As Axton stepped into the flashing red lights of the hall outside the elevator, he turned on his heel to give Rhys a jaunty little salute before drawing and pumping his shotgun in one fluid motion. 

“See you around, Rhys,” Axton called boisterously, turning on his heel again before breaking into a run toward whatever chaos awaited, the thud of his boots and clattering of armour swallowed by the howl of alarms. 

Rhys continued staring at the doors dumbly after they'd closed. The elevator continued it’s descent and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He wasn't too worried about Axton, who seemed downright eager for a firefight. Rhys crossed his arms again, resting his head against the wall behind him, mind wondering.  

Security officers must have elevator override access codes. He knew for a fact high level employees had them in order to travel the long expanses between floors unencumbered, and it would make sense if Hyperion security had them as well. After all, what good was a security force if they couldn’t respond to an emergency for being stuck in an elevator? 

Rhys chewed on his lip thoughtfully. 

The doors opened at last on the familiar ugly yellow placard listing hab suite numbers, and Rhys let out a choked cry. He was so eager to leave the confines of the elevator he bumped his shoulder on the doorframe as he sped out and down the hall to his apartment. 

As expected, Vaughn wasn’t home yet, and the two bedroom hab suite was dark. Scrubbing his face and teeth clean and whipping off his clothes, he was settled under the covers mere minutes after he’d shut the front door behind him. Sighing contently, he sank into his pillow, pulling the blankets snugly up to his chin. He’d still get a few hours of sleep in before his morning meeting, and sleepiness blotted out his worries for now.

Breathing deeply, it wasn’t long before the fog of sleep pulled his eyes closed. In the darkness of dreams, he felt callused fingers at his lips, a faceless voice rumbling in his ear, and the cool brush of metallic yellow against his skin. 

_Take care of yourself, Darlin’._

~

Rhys was exhausted. 

The precious few hours of sleep he'd anticipated were fitful, interrupted by Vaughn’s very drunk and noisy return home. Rhys had groggily got out of bed to find Vaughn passed out on the floor a few feet from the living room sofa, one shoe still on and glasses askew. Being the best bro that he was, Rhys had draped a blanket over his sleeping roommate, placing Vaughn’s glasses on the coffee table for safekeeping until morning. They were both quiet and cranky when they left for work, though Vaughn looked decidedly worse for wear.  

Stifling a yawn, Rhys sat up straighter in his chair in front of the department head’s imposingly large desk. If it had been designed to make those before it feel tiny and unimportant, it was definitely succeeding.

There was an empty chair beside Rhys, who had keenly arrived early and been shown in by his boss’ secretary. He wondered who else had been called to this meeting.  

As if on cue, the click of dress shoes sounded from the office doors behind him and Rhys turned to see the new arrivals. Robinson, his boss, looked his usual dour self. He was not a terrible boss, considering the horror stories he’d heard around Helios. Rhys had no idea how old Robinson was, the man’s movements were sharp and alert, but the skin on his face and hands hung like crinkled paper to the thin frame beneath. 

Behind Robinson followed a co-worker Rhys’ recognized immediately, Hugo Vasquez. Rhys turned back to face the monolith of a desk quickly to hide his scowl.

Vasquez always rubbed him the wrong way, not because his arrogance or underhanded methods were anything out of the ordinary on Helios, but any interactions with Vasquez inevitably left a bad taste in his mouth, like oil and tar. Rhys knew he was being childish, but even the man’s cybernetic pinkie drew his ire. A whiff of strong cologne assaulted his nostrils as Vasquez sidled into the free chair beside him. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Robinson greeted without looking at either of them, his voice devoid of warmth as he settled into his plush, high-backed chair. He opened a drawer and withdrew two data pads, extending them towards them in each of his skeletal hands.

  
“You’ve been selected from this division to work on an initiative handed down to us from the executive level,” he continued once he’d been relieved of the data pads. Robinson's monotone voice had almost lulled Rhys to sleep on more than one occasion, and he sat up a bit straighter, forcing himself to stay alert, his tired body protesting. 

At his side, Vasquez made a haughty sound in his throat. “It’s always a pleasure to have my hard work recognized, sir” he wheedled, teeth blindingly white as he flashed what was no doubt intended to be his most disarming smile. Rhys lips formed a firm line as he looked straight forward and tried to suppress his revulsion. 

Robinson made no indication he’d heard Vasquez. “Maliwan, our strongest competitor, is rumoured to have their own brand of stabilizers in development, specifically for high powered assault rifles and sub-machine guns. As you know,” Robinson continued placidly, as if he were reading from an instruction manual on furniture assembly, "Hyperion prides itself on the superiority of our stabilizing technology, and such a development from a competitor, should it succeed, would be a major blow.”

Through the haze of drowsiness, Rhys interest was piqued. “Before I continue any further,” Robinson motioned towards the data pads in their hands, “Should you wish to participate in this project, you will need to sign a non-disclosure agreement and gag order, and I remind you both that, officially, Hyperion does not engage in any form of corporate espionage.” 

Vasquez was already signing his name on the data pad and sliding it across Robinson’s desk, his cybernetic finger glinting under the desk lamp.

Rhys scrolled through the objectives and terms outlined on the data pad, all of which promised swift retribution if they spoke a word of their work to anyone, including Hyperion staff below the executive level. It had all the makings of a high-risk, high-reward deal, and Rhys, a tendril of nervous excitement licking at his nerves, used the pad of a flesh finger to sign his own datapad. 

“Excellent” Robinson said, without enthuse. He opened a different drawer and withdrew two data sticks, which he handed to each of them again. Rhys turned his over in his fingers, the letters _SMG_ stamped on the side of the cylindrical drive.

“You are each tasked with ‘researching’ Maliwan’s stabilizer for one of the weapon types. Succeed, and you will be considered for an opportunity to work closely with our executive branch on an additional project.”

Robinson, who had hardly looked at either Rhys or Vasquez as he prattled on, suddenly fixed them with a cool stare, a threatening gleam in his eyes. “Failure to adhere to the strict terms of the signed agreement, or detection by Maliwan systems, will result in harsh punishments.” 

_Succeed and be rewarded, fuck up and you're out on your ass,_ Rhys' brain supplemented. He cleared his throat once Robinson had finished.

  
“Excuse me sir,” Rhys spoke up. “What was the selection process for this project? I would have expected a larger team to attempt something this big.”

“Very astute. However, it is the delicacy of such an undertaking that calls for limited exposure. Both your names crossed my desk from upper management, so you must have done something to catch their eye, though I am unaware of the specifics.”

Robinson stood up, signalling the end of their meeting. “We will reconvene in one week.”

“You hear that Rhys,” Vasquez patted his back, Rhys cringing slightly under the unwelcome contact as they left Robinson’s office. “Upper management. Handpicked. Would hate to disappoint them with shoddy workmanship. A failure like that could really hurt someone’s career. Can’t rely on dumb luck or help from your little friends, like you did with that Eridium thing.” He looked pointedly at Rhys, his face sickeningly smug as he straightened his tie.

Rhys, not at all unfamiliar with the dirty tactics corporate life often called for, immediately recognized this for what it was. “Nice try Vasquez, you’re not going to scare me off. Might wanna get some cushions ready to soften the fall your ego’s gonna take when I ace this project.”

Ok, as far as office trash talking went that was pretty weak, Rhys admitted, but it did the trick. Vasquez face darkened immediately, all mock-friendliness gone, his voice dropping to a barely audible growl. “Oh I don’t think so, Rhys. If anyone is gonna take a fall, it’s the skinny little shit in front of me.” Vasquez stormed off angrily, but not before pushing past Rhys with a well placed shoulder check.   

Righting himself, Rhys’ fingers curled around the data drive in his hand. The enormity of what he was embarking on — hacking into a competitor and stealing data without getting caught or leading Maliwan back to him or Hyperion — was not lost on Rhys. However, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Even without the promise of moving on to bigger and better things, Rhys was eager to prove to himself, to upper management, to that asshole Vasquez, that he could do this, and do it better than anyone else.  

~ 

“Angel,” Jack's voice was sharp as he switched off the surveillance screen.  

An instant later, with a fizz of static, a soft voice answered. “Yes, Jack?” 

“I want you to keep tabs on our candidates. Nothing fancy, just update me on what they get up to, make sure they don’t kill each other or anything permanent. Got it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Jack.” 

“Fricken hell, Angel, things are finally coming together, can you show even a _little_ enthusiasm please?”

“Yes, Jack.” 

“ _Angel_ ,” Jack grit out in warning. He was answered with a defeated sigh. “Do you want me to track Dr. Anthony as well?” 

Jack shook his head and answered with a resolute “No.” He’d concluded Dr. Anthony was much more valuable in robotics. She'd stay put, and Jack was certain he’d enlist her help with the next phase. He had no misgivings dropping her from his list.

_One down, two to go._

  
“Understood, Jack.” With a pop of static Angel signed off. 

Turning back to his holomonitor, Jack tried focusing on the dull as dirt budget proposals needing his review, but he was restless.

He did a quick spin in his chair before pushing himself up, pacing briskly around his office, the occasional squeak from his sneakers sounding from the glossy floor when he turned too sharply. With a grunt, he raised his arms and stretched out his back as he completed a circuit around his office. He couldn’t sit still, not when things were finally moving forward after being stagnant for so long. 

Coming to an abrupt stop before the wall of glass behind his desk, Jack let his eyes rove over the scattering of stars dotting the inky blackness of space, the thick glass all that separated him from the vast, crushing darkness. 

The CEO thought a week was mighty generous. Hacking those dicks at Maliwan was routine for an AI powerhouse like Angel, but he'd wanted to put his final contenders to the test. No free rides here, once he saw what they were capable of he'd make his final decision.

Worst case scenario, he had picked a couple of duds and they both screwed up royally. It would be a setback, but Jack doubted he'd chosen so poorly.

He bared his teeth in a derisive laugh, his reflection sharing the joke as it laughed back at him. 

Jack didn't make mistakes, at least none that couldn't be swiftly airlocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter 2! I finished editing this while nursing a nasty fever, so if anything is especially weird let me know :) Hope the pacing isn't too terrible, we'll get to more juicy stuff soon and I'll update tags accordingly.
> 
> Also, Thank you for the kudos and comments on this so far, they are much appreciated!


	3. Straight Outta Rom Com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's muscles and ice cream in this one.

Rhys bolted down the hall, side-stepping and shouldering his way through the stream of Helios workers heading in the same direction. He nearly tripped as he rounded a corner too sharply but managed to keep his momentum and slip into the elevator just before the doors closed.

Surrounded by bleary eyed and yawning co-workers, Rhys smoothed out his hair and outfit, careful not to elbow anyone, giving the data drive in his pocket a reassuring pat.

With the Maliwan SMG stabilizer project on top of his usual workload, Rhys had been through some late nights and caffeine fuelled shifts. Working from home after putting in full days, taking breaks for rushed meals or to make a face at Vaughn when his roommate offered one of his green smoothies, Rhys and been energized rather than burdened by the challenge.

Maliwan had some truly elegant security in place, and Rhys felt a begrudging respect for the rival company's defensive networks. The deeper he penetrated into their system, the more hurdles were thrown in his path, and each new obstacle only served to fuel his drive.

Which was great, until the weeklong sleep deprivation finally caught up with him and he'd overslept the morning the project was due.

Rolling out of bed with a panicked yell, he'd clumsily hurdled out of his room, nearly body checking Vaughn, who swore up and down he thought Rhys was up already. Sacrificing the extra time he usually put into sculpting his hair, Rhys had managed to be out the front door only a few minutes after Vaughn had left for work.

His good fortune had ended there. Eating his breakfast on the go, a glob of jam from his toast dropped onto his tie and shirt, and with zero time to spare he'd settled for scrubbing the stains thinner to be less noticeable.

Rhys squeezed through the doors as they eked open at his department, and was racing towards Robinson’s office before anyone else even stepped off the elevator. Pausing just long enough for the secretary to wave him in, Rhys attempted to catch his breath, giving his hair one last pat before pushing open the heavy doors.

Vasquez turned in his seat, arm draped over the back, flashing a positively disgusting smile. “Nice of you to show up, Rhys,” he oiled smugly, crossing his legs as he relaxed deeper into his chair. Robinson sat at his desk, face the usual emotionless mask and made no reaction to the late arrival.

Rhys was about to make his apologies when something thumped into his back, hard, nearly knocking the wind out of him. His head whipped round and his heart jumped into his throat when his eyes met mismatched green and blue.

Handsome Jack stood an arm's length away, dressed in his usual layers, hands on his hips as he regarded Rhys with a frown. Behind the imposing figure he cut in the office doorway, Rhys spotted several of his coworkers’ heads poking out of cubicles or rushing to their desks hurriedly behind the CEO’s back.

Jack continued to fix Rhys, who couldn't seem to will his limbs to move, with a cold stare. The CEO heaved a dramatic, exasperated sigh and smacked Rhys' back again. “C’mon Legs, get a move on already.”

Rhys nodded mutely, mouth slightly ajar before he snapped it shut, willing his unresponsive legs to carry him to the open seat next to Vasquez. To his satisfaction, Rhys noted that Vasquez’s face was pale, and his usual sneer looked incredibly uncomfortable as Jack breezed past.

Planting himself on the edge of the gigantic desk, Jack clapped his hands, rubbing them together while cracking a menacing grin at the two of them. “Alright kiddos, let’s get this show on the road,” he boomed, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward Robinson.

Robinson's bland expression hadn't changed, save that one of his eyes seemed to be twitching slightly.

“Hand in those data drives and let’s see what we got.” Rhys and Vasquez were quick to produce their work, not wanting to keep their famously impatient boss waiting longer than was necessary. Jack sprung up from his seat and sauntered casually to pace behind Robinson, who was loading up the holomonitor on his desk.

Watching their CEO pace erratically as Robinson plugged in their data sticks, Rhys could see a frayed patch on the yellow sweater hanging loosely over Jack's belt, the scuffed toes of his sneakers, the grey streak of hair swept back from his face. Yet the fact that he was in the same room as Handsome Jack was still not sinking in.  
  
Rhys felt his his stomach flip-flop nervously, and wanted to kick himself for acting like some starstruck fanboy. He tried to keep the embarrassed flush off his cheeks as he remembered the numerous Handsome Jack motivational posters he had tacked up around his cubicle.

The sound of Jack’s snapping fingers brought Rhys back to attention. Robinson stood stiffly as Jack gestured impatiently for the exec to vacate the high-backed office chair. Plopping down and pulling the seat closer to the monitor Jack’s fingers clicked rapidly over the keyboard.

No one spoke as Jack checked their work. Waiting anxiously, Rhys let his eyes wander and realized with a start that there was another person in the room.

In his lateness and initial shock over Jack’s attendance, he hadn’t noticed a muscular, grizzled man with white-streaked hair and beard leaning against the back wall. Trying not to stare, Rhys spotted a cybernetic eye set into his scowling face, a military-grade cybernetic leg and arm, and several deep scars running over the elbow of the flesh arm crossed over his chest.

He looked like no other Hyperion worker Rhys had ever seen, and his eyes darted hastily away lest he be caught staring.

Jack wore an expression of deep concentration, his eyebrows at an extreme angle, and Rhys thought it very likely Jack had forgotten they were there.

After a few more tense minutes, Rhys jumped at the sound of barking laughter. He chanced a glance at Vasquez who looked similarly shaken. Jack couldn’t seem to stop, slouching lower in Robinson’s chair as his broad shoulders wracked with laughter as he pounded a fist against the desk.

“Man, you guys crack me up,” Jack wheezed out, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Not too shabby, not too shabby at all, bet you're both feeling pretty good about yourselves right about now." Jack swivelled back and forth idly in Robinson’s chair, heterochromatic eyes roving slowly over Rhys and Vasquez, sizing them up. "But I only need one of you to start working with Wilhelm over here,” Jack finished, Wilhelm giving a grunt of acknowledgement behind him.

Rhys shifted in his seat, heart beating faster in his chest. He wasn’t sure how much he actually wanted to work with Wilhelm, who looked like he could rip Rhys in half without breaking a sweat, but knew he definitely wanted to come out of this project the victor, and he really wanted to best his rival in front of Jack.

He was sure his work was better than whatever Vasquez had handed in, and he swallowed a dry lump in his throat, waiting for Jack's verdict.

Jack looked like he was enjoying keeping them on edge as he continued swivelling back and forth. When he finally stopped, his eyes fell on Vasquez, and Rhys felt his heart sink.

“You -- Thought you looked familiar. Wallet Head, right? Yeah, I remember you now,” Jack smirked as a mix of triumph and indignation chased over Vasquez's face. “Oh man, you must have sunk a _lot_ of cash into those hair plugs. Can’t hold a chunk of change like you used to though, which is a shame. Anyway,” Jack continued, “You managed not to get caught and got the info on their assault rifle stabilizer, so congrats, you’re not a total dumbass.”

Vasquez visibly relaxed, body unclenching as he switched on what Rhys assumed was meant to be charm. “Thank you, sir.” Rhys’ stomach turned slightly, and he tried to keep the disappointment off his face. He could almost feel Vasquez’s smugness radiating off him in sickly waves as his rival continued. “I look forward to lending my expertise to—“

“Slow your roll there, pumpkin,” Jack interrupted, holding a hand up to silence Vasquez. Swivelling the chair again, his eyes were on Rhys now, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as Vasquez sputtered to a stop. Rhys held his breath, daring to get his hopes up.

“Getting the data was pretty sweet and all, but this guy here,” his grin widened into nothing short of predatory. “Ohohoho man, he really stuck it to those Maliwan pricks good!”

Rhys allowed himself a nervous smile. Vasquez’s face fell as Jack started laughing again, slapping his knee in mirth. “Now don’t go and get a nosebleed or anything, but I gotta say, cupcake —,” Jack leaned forward and turned the holomonitor to face Rhys.

The CEO leaned back in Robinson’s chair, folding his arms behind his head. “That there? That’s my favourite part. Stealing their info was nothing spectacular, but you went that extra mile and planted that piece of malignant code to really screw them over.”

Rhys felt his confidence valiantly making a return under Jack's praise. He knew he'd taken a pretty big risk with that move, but he'd been careful to cover his tracks so that nothing was traceable back to him or Hyperion.

“That lil' gem rewrote every instance of the SMG stabilizer in their system, not enough to alert their security of a breach, but just enough that the altered stabilizer would work like crap." Something dark flashed behind Jack's eyes as he leaned forward, hands clasped together on the desktop. "That extra kick in the pants, _that_ was the icing on the cake, kitten.”

Jack stood abruptly, and made finger-guns at Rhys as he cut across the office briskly to the door. Heavy footfalls rang loudly through the room as Wilhelm stomped after the CEO. Rhys shrivelled slightly under the intent look Wilhelm fixed him with as he passed.

“We’ll be in touch, kiddo,” Jack called over his shoulder.

"Y-yes, sir," Rhys pipped up, eyes following Jack's exit. His brain was still trying to process what had just happened, and he was mildly terrified over the prospect of working with Wilhelm on anything, let alone a mystery project.

Still, Rhys couldn't stop smiling.

 

~

 

“Ready to go?”

Rhys looked up from his work with a start. He wondered how long Yvette had been standing there, arms crossed and leaning against his cubicle. He hadn’t even realized it was lunch already. He saved what he was working on before standing and brushing out the wrinkles from his slacks.

“I’m dying for a coffee,” he sighed tiredly, rubbing a knot in his shoulder. After the exhilaration of beating Vasquez and having Handsome Jack himself applaud his work, Rhys' was crashing hard as his body reminded him how little sleep he was running on.

“Vaughn not with you?”

Yvette shook her head as Rhys fell into step beside her. “He asked if we could bring him something, said he can’t get away. Some disaster in accounting.”

As they headed to the Hub of Heroism, Rhys caught sight of Vasquez standing and yelling something over a cubicle wall. He paused his tirade to shoot Rhys a nasty look as him and Yvette passed by. Rhys flashed the smuggest look he could manage, and relished in the unadulterated rage Vasquez fired back at him.

Yvette raised a brow at him. “So did the meeting go so badly you’re pretending it didn’t happen? Spill, Rhys.”

“Believe me Yvette, it went really, _really_ well," he answered, the sound of Vasquez yelling himself hoarse growing distant behind them. "I'll tell you and Vaughn all about it.” Yvette didn’t seem wholly satisfied with this answer if the pursing of her lips was any indication, but she didn’t press him as they weaved their way through the thickening lunch hour crowds to one of the food kiosks in the Hub.

Sandwiches for three in hand, the two of them arrived at the accounting department to deliver Vaughn’s lunch. Rhys was already half-way through his coffee, burning his tongue slightly as he greedily drank down the caffine.

Though he'd been up to Hyperion’s Finance Department a few times, Rhys avoided this area as much as possible. The accountants on Helios were some of Rhys' least favourite people, with the sole exception being Vaughn.

Trips to the accounting department always felt like an intrusion into a sleeping bear’s den, it was always too quiet and Rhys didn't appreciate the glares he got from the agitated men and women sitting hunched over calculators and keyboards as he passed their glass-walled offices.

They caught sight of Vaughn at the end of the hall. His shoulders were hunched and he was wringing his hands anxiously, craning his neck to look at something in one of the offices. The light flashed over his glasses as he turned his head, some of the tension leaving his body with a heaved sigh of relief as he spotted Rhys and Yvette.

“Oh man, you guys have perfect timing, I’m starving!” He jogged toward them, taking one of the shrink-wrapped sandwiches from Yvette and opening it hungrily.

Yvette looked past him as he crammed half the sandwich in his mouth in one go. “What’s going on?“

Vaughn’s eyebrows knitted and a look of disgust crossed his face as he hurriedly chewed. “Some jerk put a Necrophage plant under my desk, can you believe that?!” Vaughn roared after swallowing his food. “I went to sit down and almost kicked it, the thing could have burned my leg clean off!”

The three of them jumped as a loud crash rang out. Shards of glass rained down as a chair went sailing through the glass office wall Vaughn had been standing by just moments before. There was a sickly, bubbling green goo coating the chair, which appeared to be eating away at the metal and seat padding.

Vaughn groaned. “I liked that chair…”

Several heads peeked out into the hallway around them, while loud swearing erupted from Vaughn’s office. The curious accountants all ducked out of the hallway at the angry outburst of foul language. There was some scuffling followed by a wet squelching sound coming from the offending office.

“Aaarrrg! Son of a —! You nasty piece of -- !!”

Rhys had been about to gulp down the last drops of his coffee but paused, cup halfway to his lips, his ears perking up at the familiar voice.

_No way._

Loud stomping and more swearing sounded as a Security officer emerged. The same sickly green substance was sizzling down the front of his helmet, an unpleasant burning smell wafting down the hall. The guard’s hands fumbled with the clasps of his armour as he muttered angrily under his breath. “Can’t see a goddamned thing now. Asshole.”

After some scrambling and a few metallic clicks later, the helmet came off to reveal close-cropped dirty blonde hair, a strong jaw dusted with stubble and shallow scars, and startlingly green eyes. Rhys stared down the hallway, his coffee cup still held at an awkward angle.

_Oh my god..._ Rhys swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry. He ran a hand over his hair self-consciously, silently lamenting that he hadn’t had time to preen to his usual standards.

“Axton?” Rhys called tentatively down the hall. Green eyes snapped up, and the sour expression on the guard’s face softened immediately.

“Heya, Rhys!” Axton called back, stowing his ruined helmet under his arm as he trod over. Rhys’ tongue felt a few sizes too large for his mouth. _C’mon Rhys, he was hot before, you just didn’t know it,_ he admonished silently, willing himself not to freeze up.

“Are you ever a sight for sore eyes,” Axton addressed Rhys, stopping in front of them and giving a friendly nod to Yvette and Vaughn. Vaughn was focused on chewing another mouthful of sandwich, but Yvette was looking at Rhys with barely concealed amusement. “Vaughn and I will get a spot in the Hub for lunch.” She pushed a bemused Vaughn back the way they’d come. "See you in a bit!"

_Thanks, Yvette,_ Rhys thought, not sure if his inner dialogue was sarcastic or not.

“Rough day?” Rhys asked sympathetically, motioning to the still smouldering helmet under Axton’s arm. Axton made a face. “Could have done without that weird acid-spitting-plant-thing,” he muttered irritably, examining the damaged helmet. On closer inspection, Rhys noticed flecks of the green substance splattered on other parts of the yellow armour, though the smaller concentration of whatever it was didn't seem to be eating away at the plating.

Axton dropped the helmet to his side again, his grin widening. “Gotta say, if it means bumping into you again though, I've got no complaints.”

“Sorry you had to get a face full of acid, but it is nice running into you,” Rhys replied, relieved that he was talking like a functioning human being and not tripping all over himself like he usually did when faced with a bona fide hottie. Axton laughed, taking a step closer and thumbing the jam stain on Rhys' tie.

“Looks like we’re both a little worse for wear. But I was right,” Axton’s voice dropped slightly as he leaned forward. “You look good in anything, Darlin.’”

Rhys sucked in a deep breath. Today was his day, _he could do this_. He’d outwitted Vasquez, gotten validation from the CEO of Hyperion, hell, he'd carried on whole conversations with Axton without making an ass of himself, it wasn't like he was marching into some great unknown.

“You uh…doing anything tomorrow night?” Rhys fumbled slightly, wishing he didn’t sound like he was asking to borrow a stapler or which way to the vending machines. Despite the poor delivery, Rhys was relieved to see Axton’s eagerness at the invitation.

“So long as there aren’t any emergencies, I’m all yours.”

Thrilled and more than a little relieved, Rhys tried to maintain his relative cool as they exchanged ECHOcomm details, and set the time and place to meet.

They were interrupted by thrashing and wet splashing noises coming from Vaughn’s office. Axton looked over his shoulder with a sigh. “Back to work, I guess. Gotta see about getting a new helmet first though.”

Rhys gave him an apologetic look. “I better get going too. But looking forward to tomorrow,” he added, trying his best to sound flirty but afraid he just sounded like he’d run up a flight of stairs too fast.

_Nice one,_ Rhys.

Axton placed his free hand on Rhys’ shoulder in the now familiar farewell, flashing one more disarming smile. “Can’t wait, Rhys.”

Feeling embarrassingly giddy, Rhys strutted toward the Hub of Heroism, exhaustion all but forgotten until he was waved down by his friends and subjected to their interrogation.

“I don’t believe this," Vaughn grumbled, pushing up his glasses. "I get a vicious alien species destroying my office and you get a date. How is that fair?”

“Yeah, so about that,” Rhys asked, raising his brows at his friend. “How exactly did that…plant? I don’t even know what that was, actually, I just heard it having a fit or something and saw it eat through a chair—“

Vaughn scowled. “It’s a bulbus green plant that shoots acid; I heard about them when I had to deal out a bunch of pay cuts after equipment in R&D got destroyed. I called security once I saw it and your new boyfriend came up to try and get rid of it,” he said, not wilting a bit under Rhys’ glare.

“Guess they can try and review the security footage to see how it actually got there, but for now I just want my office back…or at least what’s left of it.”

Rhys frowned, wondering how the hell something like that found it's way under Vaughn's desk. His mind shuffled back to the stalker outbreak Axton had been responding to last time they met. He'd never heard of R&D pet projects escaping that level, but guessed it wasn't necessarily impossible, though it did seem more likely that it had been carried into Accounting.

Clearing her throat loudly, Yvette tapped her nails on the tabletop impatiently. "So, are we going to hear about your meeting or what?"

Vaughn and Yvette knew Rhys couldn't tell them exactly what he'd been working only, only that he had been competing against Vasquez. Rhys recounted the surprise appearance from Handsome Jack, the letdown thinking Vasquez had beat him, then the triumphant turnaround and promise of another new mystery project.

After a round of congratulations and speculation over what Rhys would be working on, Yvette pushed her chair back from the table. “I gotta get back, there’s a dozen or so Purchase Requisitions sitting in my inbox that I haven't even looked at yet.”

Vaughn and Rhys made to get up as well. The corner of Yvette's lip twitched up into a smirk as she lightly poked Rhys in the chest with the tip of a polished fingernail. “Fill me in on the details of your date tomorrow, Rhys. You’re welcome, by the way, I’ll take lunch for a week for my services.”

“Hey, I could've asked him out with you guys watching. I could have! Don't think I couldn't!” He yelled after Yvette, who let out an undignified snort of laughter as she walked away.

 

~

 

Muscles taut with exertion, Axton exhaled as he raised the weight bar toward the ceiling. Arms extended, he paused a few moments before lowering it back down to his chest with a shaky inhale. He'd let his mind wander, and had lost track of how many reps he'd finished, but his muscles burned pleasantly. With a grunt, he settled the weights back on the bar catch.

Axton had gone to the Helios Fitness Facility only a few times when he'd first arrived on the space station. He'd found most employees went to socialize in front of the mirrorored walls, which grated on his nerves while he was trying to workout.

With a little ingenuity, he'd scrounged up some decent second-hand equipment and outfitted his small living quarters with a modest personal gym.

Grabbing his towel and wiping off his sweat slicked skin, Axton moved to the pull-up bar he'd drilled into the walls of the short hallway branching off the living room. He took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the bar, his muscles protesting as he pulled his body up off the ground.

The slow pace of life on Helios, at least compared to what he was used to, was a change he was still struggling with. Having his own private gym came in handy when he was feeling especially restless. The activity calmed him down, and his head was always clearest when he was in motion.

Dropping heavily from the bar and stretching out his tired arms, Axton prodded a padded mat resting against the wall onto the floor with his foot. The mat was cool against his back as he sprawled out, knees bent with hands behind his head as he started his sit-ups.

Frustrating as it was, Axton reminded himself that the change of pace was what he needed. In the month he'd been on Helios, he was still just as lost as when he'd arrived. He couldn’t go back to the military, bounty hunting had been thrilling but ultimately unfulfilling, and now he was guarding the workers of Hyperion from their own damned science projects. It was the same problem, and Axton was out of options. He needed the time to focus and find a solution.

His back hit the mat with a thud, chest rising and falling steadily, a trickle of sweat rolling down his sternum. Axton raised a hand to the thin chain hanging from his neck, idly thumbing the dog tags and ring.

At least things had picked up a bit recently, he'd even been able to put his Hyperion shotgun through it's paces during the call down to R&D. He hadn't been disappointed. It handled like a dream, the recoil packing just the right amount of oomph, and he’d snuffed out his fair share of the rampaging beasts with satisfying carnage.

His good luck had continued when he ran into Rhys again on the way. It'd been worth taking the detour instead of hightailing it to R&D, and Axton hadn't been fazed in the least by the chewing out he’d gotten afterwards for taking so long. He grinned at the memory. Axton may have laid it on a little thick after their first meeting, but he wouldn't have flirted so shamelessly if Rhys hadn't been flirting right back.

With a sigh, he sat up, elbows resting on his knees. Axton may not have anything else figured out, but he did know he wanted to look good for his date tonight, and the first step was a shower.

He ended up being a few minutes late. He’d never been out with a corporate type, and not that he thought Rhys would mind, but Axton had still tried to make more of an effort getting ready than he usually would. In the end, he’d dug up a pair of light, slightly tattered jeans he hadn’t even known he owned, and a simple, snug-but-not-douchebag-snug t-shirt.

He spotted Rhys hovering near the entrance to the observation level where they'd agreed to meet. The company man looked smart as always, sporting a long sleeve shirt with subtle stripes of what looked like black leather running vertically from shoulder to wrist on each arm, and another pair of trademark slacks that made his legs look even longer.

_Damn, but he looked good._

“Been waiting long?” Axton asked apologetically as he jogged up beside him. Rhys shook his head, his face brightening. “First time up here?” Rhys asked, tone conversational. Axton nodded. “Haven’t really done much exploring of the station since I started. Didn't think there'd be anything worth seeing, to be honest.”

The change in lighting had Axton blinking and squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sudden dark as they entered the observation deck. There were thin strips of blue light laid into paths cutting across the floor, seating areas illuminated by slender columns of the same blue light, and planters of luminescent flowers which gave off a ghostly glow.

Once his eyes adjusted, Axton gave a low whistle at the view. The walls were floor to ceiling panes of thick glass, allowing uninterrupted views of the breathtaking panorama of stars twinkling in the inky blackness.

Rhys led him to the far end of the observatory, where a round concession kiosk was set up, waving off Axton’s offer to pay once they'd ordered. “My treat, consider it part of your Helios tour package,” he joked, taking two ice cream cones from the vendor.

Axton took the chocolate cone offered, and wondered how someone could look so attractive while saying something so dorky. He watched in amusement as Rhys took a lick of his Cookie Dough Fudge Walnut monstrosity.

“Guessing you have a bit of sweet tooth?” Axton asked, taking a lick of his own cone. He was pleasantly surprised. Most of the food on the station was fairly bland and processed to shit, and while he wasn’t big on sweets himself, the taste of honest to goodness chocolate had his mouth watering.

"If it wasn't obvious," Rhys laughed, "Yeah, I like ice cream, okay, it softens my evil corporate exterior." Axton put up his hand in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm not knocking it, you do you."

Rhys took another pass at his extravagant ice cream as they made their way over to one of the empty seating areas. All the people sitting on benches or strolling along the paths appeared to be couples. “Best views and best ice cream are up here. Hopefully it'll help you get a better opinion of Helios.”

Axton chuckled, taking another mouthful of chocolate as they sat down facing the windows. He stretched his arm over the back of the bench behind Rhys' shoulders, sitting close enough that their legs touched.

Giving an appraising nod, Axton looked around. "It's real pretty. Don't know if it beats the eye candy in front of me though,” Axton replied, playfully nudging Rhys' knee with his own.

"Smooth," Rhys snorted.

"I thought so."

Finishing their cones, they fell into the same relaxed conversation as their previous encounters, and Axton was genuinely enjoying himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he was out on a date, and wondered if the last had been with his now ex-wife.

After he’d gone AWOL and run amok on the borderplanets, he hadn’t encountered anyone he’d trust not to unload a magazine in his back, let alone anyone he'd consider sharing a drink with. Besides, Axton talked big and was a shameless flirt, but he'd never been big into casual encounters. He'd been happy being off the market, and counted himself lucky his ex put up with him for as long as she did.

Axton listened as Rhys talked about his work, which sounded downright dull to the ex-military man, but the animated way Rhys spoke about the computer stuff made it very easy to pay attention. The excited gleam in his eyes, the movement of his hands as he spoke, Axton found these mannerisms endearing.

Rhys faltered a bit as Axton’s arm slipped off the back of the bench to wrap loosely around his thin shoulder. “Wh-what about you?” he asked, somewhat guiltily, perhaps worried he'd gotten carried away talking. “You haven't been here that long, what did you do before you started working security on Helios?”

Axton let out a rough bark of laughter. “Oh Darlin’, I like you, I don't wanna scare ya off.”

Rhys frowned, lips pressed in a thin line. “C’mon, I can handle it. I work for a weapons manufacturer where a dozen employees were airlocked last quarter.”

Axton was mildly surprised, hearing Rhys speak so candidly. Apparently the fact their CEO committed straight up murder on a semi-regular basis wasn't that big a deal to the staff here, which Axton found pretty odd. Army life was tough and there were a lot of hard-asses up the chain of command, but he'd never had any real fear of being snuffed out by one of his superiors.

Not without a really, really good reason, at least.

“Well, if you can handle it,” Axton took a theatrically deep breath for effect. “Was in the Dahl military for a good chunk of my life, got dishonourably discharged and divorced a few months back by the missus after I steered one too many missions sideways. Blew up a fair few bandits for the reward money on a couple different planets after I escaped the firing squad, and now I’m here guarding Hyperion’s best and brightest."

Rhys' face was neutral. “No wonder you’re bored here,” he blurted out. It took a moment before Rhys' face turned an embarrassed shade of red, and Axton, caught off guard, burst out laughing. Rhys grinned somewhat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Sorry, I didn't mean -- well, sounds like you’re used to a lot more excitement than this, while here I am gushing over coding. You must be bored stiff up here.”

Axton gave Rhys' shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “No apology needed, you're 100% right," Axton reassured him. He leaned in close, his voice low, “But Helios is starting to look better and better.”

Rhys leaned in as well so they were nearly nose to nose, and Axton could feel his soft exhales. Rhys looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. "How many more of these lines do you have, Axton?"

"All depends on how effective they are."

Rhys tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against Axton's in a tentative kiss. It was chaste and over too soon, and Axton's lips followed Rhys as the company man pulled away.

Giving a smart pat to Axton's knee, Rhys stood from his seat. “I’m not being a very good host if I don’t show you what else Helios has to offer.”

_Goddamn Tease,_ Axton groaned to himself as he rose from the bench.

They meandered around the observatory, taking in the views, walking shoulder to shoulder, passing more of the glowing flowers, which Rhys had to dissuade Axton from poking.

Strolling at a leisurely pace, Rhys came to a stop in front of a window directly overlooking the jagged scar cutting across the surface of Elpis.

"So I gotta ask," Rhys began, staring straight ahead out the window. "The necklace?" His tone was light but there was an uneasy edge to his voice, as if he were afraid of overstepping.

It'd become such a regular part of his day to day attire that Axton had simply forgot he was still wearing it. Resting in plain sight against his shirt, it was obvious to anyone looking that the jewelry hanging alongside the dog tag was a wedding ring.

He chewed over his words carefully, wanting to describe something he'd left unnamed for too long, but words were never his strong suit. "It's a reminder..." he started slowly, his eyes tracing the rocky crags of the moon's surface, brows furrowing in concentration.

Surrounded by the emptiness of space, a strange calm had washed over Axton, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt like he was getting closer to something, chipping away at the surface little by little. Nothing was resolved, he still had no idea what he was doing, but this felt like an important step in the right direction.

"It's a reminder of things I lost...but also that I can remember what I lost and still...move on."

Feeling like he'd said something incredibly stupid, Axton chanced a glance to his side. Rhys was no longer looking out the window. Axton felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment.

"Sorry, this is pretty heavy stuff for a first date," he back-pedalled, trying to brush it off with as much bravado he could muster. "Probably scarier than the whole on-the-run-from-the-army thing, right?"

He felt the warmth of Rhys' breath against his lips before registering that Rhys had closed the distance between them. The kiss before had been cautious, but there was more heat behind this one.

Responding immediately as Rhys' lips pressed against his, Axton felt hands creep tentatively over the front of his shirt toward his shoulders. At the unexpected brush of cool metallic fingers over the nape of his neck, Axton felt the skin rise into gooseflesh. He hummed into the kiss at the sensation, bringing his hands to rest on Rhys’ slender hips, pulling the company man against him.

Axton felt more than heard the soft sigh Rhys let out at the contact, his arms wrapping tighter around Axton’s thick shoulders, deepening their kiss. A tongue swiped gently over his mouth making Axton groan. The company man tasted sweet, the lingering taste of chocolate no doubt still on Axton's tongue as he licked into Rhys' mouth.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice reminded Axton that they were still very much in public, even if there was no one nearby. He was finding it hard to listen, and ignored the voice completely, letting his calloused fingers slip off Rhys’ hips, traveling the short distance to squeeze Rhys' ass through his pants.

Rhys broke away from the kiss, slightly breathless, his eyes half lidded, a pink tinge to his cheekbones just visible in the low light. He leaned in and nuzzled Axton’s neck. Axton stifled another low groan as he felt the soft, warm pressure of Rhys' lips sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

“You’re gonna make it real tough to say goodbye, if you keep this up,” Axton murmured against Rhys’ ear softly, giving another firm squeeze to the pert flesh under his hands, causing a visible shiver to run through Rhys.

Withdrawing from the hickey he was no doubt leaving on Axton's neck, Rhys leaned in for another slow kiss before the two reluctantly stepped apart. Axton grinned, running his thumb over Rhys’s slightly puffy lower lip. “I had fun tonight, Rhys.”

Rhys smiled back, somewhat dazedly. “Same,” his voice was just barely above a whisper, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If you want, you can pick the place for our next date.”

Axton chuckled. “Darlin’, you’re gonna love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry my chapter titles and summaries are crap~)
> 
> This chapter's a bit longer than the previous two, but hope you like it! Getting closer to the chapters that will earn that explicit rating, SOON, and I will update the tags then as well.
> 
> Let me know if anything looks goofy and Thank you again for the kudos and comments, I really do appreciate them so much!


	4. Maybe at Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert but also fair warning that the tags have been updated~

“Christ Wilhelm, gimmie a heart attack why don’t you."

Wilhelm’s jaw clenched but otherwise there was no reaction to Jack’s startled outburst. He stood waiting outside the CEO’s office, stance wide and arms crossed over his broad chest.

Jack had gotten off the exec elevator and noted with a frown that his PA’s desk was empty. Meg was on some mundane task or had been frightened off by the enforcer keeping sentry. Whatever it was, his assistant was not scoring any points for usefulness.

Breezing past Wilhelm, Jack opened the doors to his office and stepped over the threshold, Wilhelm’s clunking footsteps echoing through the spacious room as he lumbered along behind. They passed under the watchful gaze of the giant CEO busts on either side of the stairs leading to Jack’s desk, against which Jack planted a palm flat on the polished surface and the other on his hip.

“Well?” he looked expectantly at Wilhelm, who thudded to a stop a few paces away.

Wilhelm’s thick mouth twisted down in a contemplative frown. “I want my next upgrade,” he barked out without preamble.

Jack sighed. “I’ve told you like, what, five times already? Can’t give you anymore robot bits until your work with this code monkey is done. You’re not gonna be real useful laid out in recovery while you take to your shinny new parts, right?”

Wilhelm stood in stoney silence, scowl and posture unchanged, as if he’d anchored himself to the floor, unwilling to budge. Jack ground his teeth. He had a goddamned company to run, he did not have time for this.

“Look, not sure if your last time under the knife knocked something loose in that thick skull of yours, but we’ve been over this,” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Work with the kid like I told ya, and once you’re done, we’ll have even better gear to slap onto that beefcake bod of yours. Got it?”

Still no reaction.

Jack's tone took on a venomous edge as he did his best not to loose his temper.

"I sent you the kid's file, now maybe you didn't read it, you hunkering robotic meat-sack, but he seems to be as much of a tech dork as you are, minus the surgical addiction." Jack's arms swept through the air in agitation as he spoke, aggressively enunciating each word. "I'm not asking you to divide large columns of numbers here, just do what I ask and you'll get your pay check and a fun new appendage, _ok_?”

Patience hanging by a thread, he almost growled out the last word. Wilhelm’s gruff voice rumbled from his chest as he huffed out an affirmative.

“So,” Jack drew out the vowel irritably, “Is everything ready then? Jeesus Wilhelm, words, use them.” Drumming his fingers on his desk, the rubber sole of his sneaker tapping restlessly against the floor. He doubted he’d ever find someone as good at killing or as eager to test out Hyperion robotics as Wilhelm, but christ almighty, talking to the guy was like pulling out teeth some days.

Wilhelm’s chest rose as he inhaled deeply. “Everything’s ready.”

“Great. Awesome. Goody gumdrops. Go kill some bandits or snort some microchips or whatever you do for fun, just make sure you’re good to go when I need ya,” Jack groused, dropping into his high backed chair, hoping Wilhelm took the hint and left him alone so he could get some work done.

This seemed to satisfy the merc, who turned heel and stomped toward the exit. “Snorting microchips won’t make me a robot. I’ll just kill something,” he grunted over his shoulder nonchalantly as he left.

Waiting for the doors to swing shut behind him, Jack fired up his holomonitor and was immediately assaulted by several meeting requests and half a dozen messages marked _URGENT_  in angry red font. Jack’s shoulders slumped and his eyes glazed over as he scrolled through the requests. _Quarterly Budget Meeting. Import/Export Forecast Summary. Security Protocol Review Board_.

Jack pushed his chair back and kicked his feet onto the desktop. That last one would be interesting. “Angel,” he called sharply into the empty room, a whirring noise and crackle of static signalling the ECHOcomm line opening. “Any update on the R&D break-ins?”

“Nothing, sir,” Angel answered cooly, face unseen.

Genuinely shocked, Jack blinked and took a moment to respond. Angel very rarely failed in anything he tasked her with, especially something as routine as investigating security breaches. “What do you mean, _nothing_? Can’t you review security footage? Check key code logs? C’mon Angel, you’re like, the most powerful supercomputer in the galaxy, don't give me _nothing_.”

Terse silence was his response.

Just before Jack’s patience broke and he started yelling, Angel quipped, her voice thin with barely withheld annoyance. “The footage and access records were corrupted, most likely by whoever is responsible for the break-ins.” There was a low buzzing noise over the line as Angel bristled, irritation bleeding through the connection. “I was busy working on the jobs you gave me, _sir_ , I didn’t have the capacity to monitor Helios systems as wel—“

“Okay, okay, time out, baby doll,” Jack sighed, running a hand through his grey streaked hair in resignation. While it’d be a cold day in hell before he turned tail at the first sign of a fight, he sensed an impending shouting match he could easily avoid, and he’d much rather have whatever intel Angel had dug up. “I get it. You keep an eye on Pandora and I’ll keep Hyperion running, which will be a helluva lot easier after this project gets off the ground."

The CEO made a note to ream out the Head of Security at the Review meeting. He wanted to know how, with all of Helios’ resources, some dingus had tampered with R&D’s experimental species without being caught.

Moving on.

“Has Dr. Anthony been briefed?”

The noise on the line cleared as Angel’s usual calm returned. “Meg sent the files to her yesterday. Dr. Anthony is ready to perform the procedure so long as Rhys passes the physical examination.”

“Rhys? Oh, you mean Legs,” Jack smirked, recalling the Maliwan Project meeting. He’d gotten a kick out of that vicious little souvenir the kid had left in their system, an unexpected move from a lanky nerd, albeit a nerd with surprisingly good hair. Maybe the pretty boy was meaner than he looked, which was a bonus as far as Jack was concerned. Plus that whole speechless fan boy thing was something Jack had already filed away for later use.

Jack ticked off another item from his mental to-do list, and jumped to another.

"Any luck finding Vault Hunters on that skid mark of a planet?”

There was another pause before Angel responded, her voice wavering nervously. “The team dispatched to Ovejas has returned, sir.”

He had to think for a moment. _Ovejas. Ovejas_. “One of those cruddy little bandit camps?” He’d sent troops to Pandora to clear out some of the scum from the outposts scattered over the filthy dirt ball, a temporary solution before he could wipe the planet clean, but couldn’t recall anything of note about that particular area. “No problems, I'm assuming.”

Angel’s voice was tense. “Not quite. They were unable to secure the village.”

That was not the answer he’d been expecting. He planted his feet back on the floor and leaned over his desk aggressively. “Run that by me again,” he grit out, a quiet rage licking at his insides. How hard was it to wipe out one measly camp of thieves and murderers?

There was a crackle of static as Angel took a deep breath. “Only one member of the occupation force made it back alive. He has two broken legs, lost an arm, and sunstroke seems to have driven him completely insane. But he keeps saying one name, over and over.”

“Yeah? What name?”

“…Salvador.”

Jack glowered, hands forming fists on his desk. “That supposed to mean anything to me?”

Angel cleared her throat. “I was able to get the last recording from the Hyperion solider who survived the raid. It’s…disturbing.”

“Play it.”

The sickening crack of bone and anguished screams filled the room. It’d been a while since Jack had heard these noises in the comfort of his own office, and he was immediately intrigued. A gruesome interrogation unfolded, punctuated by shrieks and uttered threats. More bones snapped over the audio as the recording played on, and a dark grin pulled at Jack’s lips.

The sheer brutality didn’t phase the CEO, nor did it seem out of the ordinary for your run-of-the-mill Pandoran bandit. Still, the sheer, unapologetic violence piqued his interest. “Nicely done, Angel. I like this guy. Put him on the list.”

“Yes, sir…” The connection was still open, the hum of electricity buzzing in the air. Jack waited, recognizing when that big brain of hers was spinning extra fast. His brilliant little Angel. “Anything else?” He asked when the silence stretched on.

“…No, sir.”

“I’ll come visit you in a few days, okay doll face?”

She closed the connection with an electric pop, which to Jack seemed an awful lot like having a door slammed in his face. 

 

~

 

  
“Hey,” Axton chided, face stern as he poked Rhys in the ribs with his elbow. “Don’t make that face in front of the ladies.”

“Ladies, huh?” Rhys scoffed, arms crossed over his chest. He took in the assortment of Hyperion weaponry hanging behind the barred gate, sleek and gleaming and deadly in the harsh florescent light.

The two of them had exchanged messages over their ECHOs, which lead to the discovery that Axton was weirdly into ECHOnet memes. He regularly sent ones he found particularly funny to Rhys, which the company man found oddly endearing, even if the entertainment value was lost on him. Finally, after almost two weeks, a window opened in their conflicting work schedules for another date.

Axton keyed in a code and the gate swung open. As he pulled a yellow and white pistol down off the wall, Rhys cast a nervous look over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for bringing me here?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Axton grunted casually, turning the gun over in his hand as he examined it carefully.

Rhys pressed his lips together in a frown. Though he’d been eager to go out with the security officer again, Rhys was having some misgivings about the location Axton chose. Points for originality, but “Shooting Range” wasn’t high on his list of potential date spots.  
  
Axton was now shuffling around in the gun locker, pulling out magazines from a wall-mouted cabinet. Rhys eyed the keypad by the gun locker, identical to the one they’d bypassed at the entrance. “I mean…” Rhys rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his cybernetic arm, not wanting to be a wet blanket but also not wanting to be arrested. “They’ll be able to pull up the access codes you entered and see—“

“— That my Boss Ted really needs to be more careful with the post-it note he writes his passwords on,” Axton finished, finally looking up to flash a cocky grin.

Rhys was taken aback. “And the dozen or so security cameras we passed?”

“All taken care of.” Axton shoved the pistol magazine in with a loud snap that made Rhys jump. “Used good ol’ Ted’s post-it to disable them before we met up,” he drawled, grinning smugly as he looked up from the pistol. “I’m not just a pretty face, Darlin’.”

Rhys was genuinely impressed, and if he was honest, more than a little flattered that someone would go to such lengths for a night out. “Well,” Rhys uncrossed his arms, long legs carrying him across the scuffed floor into Axton’s personal space. Willing every ounce of Hyperion confidence he could muster, he ran a hand up Axton’s arm, leaning in with a coy smile. “Hope I’m worth all the effort.”

He gave himself an internal hi five as Axton leaned in the rest of the way. Rhys felt a flutter like the beating of tiny wings in his stomach as he breathed in the subtle scent of spice and gun oil, the kiss tender and slow.

Pulling away, Axton placed his free hand on the small of Rhys’ back and guided him to the low wall separating them from the range. There were a variety of targets at different distances, from simple bullseye circles, to life-size bandit dummies, and a target decked out in what Rhys recognized as Dahl armour.

“Doesn’t it weird you out shooting at that last one?” Rhys asked, remembering that Axton had been a Dahl soldier. Hating on Dahl was a staple of Hyperion corporate life, but he wondered how someone who’d served under their military felt about that.

Axton stepped up to the barrier, lifted the pistol with precise, fluid grace and unloaded shots into the head, chest and crotch of the Dahl target. Rhys’ shoulders tensed up toward his ears as the explosive blasts rang out, glad the noise drowned out his yelp of surprise.

Disturbing a delicate plume of smoke curling up from the gun barrel as he dropped his arm, Axton turned to Rhys smugly. “That answer your question?”

“Pretty much,” Rhys chuckled darkly.

Axton motioned for Rhys to take his place at the barrier. “Your turn, babe.” Rhys shuffled hesitantly in front of the low wall. Axton moved in close, pressing the gun into flesh and metal fingers. The pistol still smoked slightly, the strong smell making Rhys wrinkle his nose.  
  
“Keep your arms straight but don’t lock your elbows,” Axton’s breath was hot in Rhys’ ear, ghosting over his cheek and sending shivers down his spine. He looked down as Axton’s boot nudged his foot out slightly, careful not to trip the slighter man. “Make sure you’re comfortable, but might wanna widen your stance a bit.” Rhys licked his lips, trying to focus down the barrel of the gun as Axton gave him instruction. He was finding it difficult to listen when he could feel the warmth of Axton’s broad chest at his back, muscular arms flanking his as Axton helped him aim down the range.

“I’ll hold ya through the first one, shoot when ready, Rhys.”

Rhys fired by accident, finger twitching on the trigger as Axton’s words tickled his ear. His shot hit the bullet-strewn wall behind the targets, not even close to where he thought he’d been aiming.

“Easy there, Darlin,” Axton chuckled, feeling Rhys tense up against him. “Just relax, we’ll try again.”

Rhys exhaled, rolling his shoulders before making another attempt. Looking down the barrel, Rhys took aim at the armoured chest plates of the Dahl target. With a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger.

The shot cracked out, the recoil causing him to bump back against Axton’s chest. A smouldering bullet hole pierced the target’s shoulder. The company man lamented the loss of Axton’s warmth as the security officer took a few steps back to admire Rhys’ handiwork.

“Not bad,” Axton said approvingly. “Thought we’d go through a whole magazine before ya hit anything, but you’re not bad.”

“Ha, Ha,” Rhys laughed dryly, getting ready to take another shot. The gun still felt alien in his hands, but he could get used to this. There was something exhilarating in lining up the shot, the explosion of gunfire, the satisfaction of sinking a bullet into the target. Rhys was sure he’d never want to be in any sort of combat situation ever, but under these controlled settings, it was actually kind of fun.

Rhys took a few more shots, unaided, landing some, coming close on others, and managing one headshot that had Axton cheering boisterously behind him. “Gotta say, I worry about the next asshole who tries to start shit with you,” Axton joked as he watched approvingly. “Wanna try firing one of the bigger guns?”

He’d taken well enough to the pistol, and when else would he be able to test out something with a bit more firepower? Rhys nodded eagerly.

“So, I gotta ask,” Axton called from the gun cage. “How’s a sweet thing like you end up working for a heartless weapons manufacturer?“

The pistol blast echoed through the range as Rhys squeezed the trigger, the shot landing an inch away from the target’s neck. “I dunno…I worked real hard growing up,” Rhys started, somewhat unsure of how far into the past he wanted to venture. Axton had been honest about his colourful history, and it wasn’t that Rhys had anything to hide, he just didn’t see the point of mucking around in the past. “And when I graduated, Hyperion offered the best of everything, so I ended up here.”

He went to take another shot but the satisfying burst of fire was replaced with the shallow click of the empty magazine. Returning to his side, Axton relieved him of the pistol, setting it down on top of the barricade wall. He held a sleek yellow and white sub-machine gun in his other hand, hanging idly at his side. Rhys reached for it but Axton pulled it back out of reach. Rhys stumbled forward clumsily against Axton.

“That all there is to it?” The other man didn’t look convinced. “Sorry Darlin’, you just seem….too nice for this place.”

Rhys snorted. He didn’t bother righting himself, instead walked his fingers over the front of Axton’s shirt. “Maybe, I’m not as nice as you think,” he said smugly, pushing off Axton’s chest. “Now c’mon, I wanna fire the big gun.”

Axton groaned. “A man after my own heart,” he sighed dramatically, carefully handing over the SMG. Axton made to move behind Rhys again but the company man shook his head.

“I can handle it,” Rhys said confidently, taking up his stance and getting acclimatized to the larger weapon. The grip was different and Rhys hadn’t been prepared for just how much heavier than the pistol it was, making it more difficult to aim at the targets down range.

Hands up in mock surrender, Axton took a few steps back, giving Rhys his space as the company man lined up his shot. With a sharp burst of gunfire, the bullets smattered the target just shy of the plates over the soldier’s heart.

However, the kick of the SMG was drastically different than the recoil of the pistol, throwing Rhys off balance. Rhys yelped and another burst went off as the stock butted hard into his shoulder. The stray bullets hit a fire sprinkler above the shooting range, which immediately exploded, setting off a chain reaction. Within seconds every fire sprinkler above them was raining down a harsh spray of cold water.

Rhys stood frozen, knuckles white on the SMG grip while Axton went weak with laughter. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Rhys yelled over the noise of the sprinklers and Axton’s raucous laughter. Rhys shook his head, his usually perfect hair was soaked and wet tendrils were falling down into his eyes.

Axton took heaving lungfulls of air to try and quell his laughter. “No, no it’s fine! Totally fine! Just never seen anything like that happen, and would never in a million years expec —“

“Not helping!” Rhys’ groaned, though his lip was twitching as his attempt at a straight face failed.

Chuckles subsiding, Axton took the gun from Rhys and the empty pistol from the barricade wall, hastily replacing them in the cage. Clothes sopping wet, Axton locked the gate and grabbed Rhys by the elbow. “Ok, ok, but we gotta bolt — Those sprinklers going off means the fire alarm was triggered, and there’s gonna be some pissed off guards headed this way.”

Exiting the Shooting Range and locking the doors behind them, the approaching thud of heavy boots sounded around the corner. Axton made a shushing gesture and pulled Rhys along in the opposite direction as quickly and quietly as their soaked clothing and shoes allowed. Casting a quick look behind them, Rhys was dismayed that they were scattering droplets of water in their wake, but prayed their trail would dry while the guards investigated the shooting range.

They rushed down the corridor, the sound of armoured footsteps fading, replaced by the swishing of soggy fabric as they passed by several numbered doors. Rhys bumped into Axton’s back as they came to an abrupt stop. They ducked inside one of the doors which Axton locked behind them, though Rhys wondered how much good a deadbolt would do against several irrate Hyperion guards.

Panting slightly from their hurried escape, they listened at the door for approaching footsteps. They waited, but the hallway outside remained quiet. Axton whispered “Think we’re good, they’ll probably be too busy shutting those sprinklers off.”

They were both utterly soaked. Rhys hugged his arms around his chest, chilled from the cold water and cool air. All traces of hair product had washed out and unruly wet waves fell in his eyes. Now that the immediate danger was over, Rhys took a quick look around and saw they were in an apartment.

They kicked off their water-logged shoes, and Rhys looked around the modest dwelling he assumed belonged to Axton. It was much smaller than his and Vaughn’s shared quarters, sparse in furnishings and decorations, but still felt lived in. Most importantly, it was warm and dry.

“N-nice place,” Rhys mused, teeth chattering slightly as he took in the kitchenette, and the worn sofa set against the wall away from the personal gym in the corner of the living room.

Axton looked at the floor. “Not as nice as those socks. Are those fish?” he teased, and Rhys followed his line of sight to his discarded socks. They were navy blue dotted with bright orange and yellow goldfish.

“They are and I know you w-want a pair,” Rhys teased back, shivering as Axton led him through the apartment.

“D-do all the s-security staff live on this floor?”

Axton paused to pull some towels out of a small hallway closet. “Yeah, not sure why they don’t just lump us in with you civvies on the lower levels.” He held a door at the end of the hall open for Rhys, and they shuffled into a bathroom that was just big enough to fit them both in front of the narrow vanity. “Probably has something to do with response time, keeping us all up on the same level near Central Security.”

Giving his wet hair and face a once-over with one of the towels, Axton draped it across his shoulders and used the other to dry Rhys’ hair. “Looks cute like this,” he murmured, brushing a few wet strands off Rhys’ forehead as he towelled him off.

“You wear water pretty well yourself,” Rhys beamed, tugging on the hem of Axton’s shirt playfully. The t-shirt clung wetly to Axton's chest and torso, doing a stellar job of showing off the definition beneath. Rhys idly thumbed the wet fabric, his eyes darting up and meeting green eyes staring back. The self assured grin had vanished from Axton’s face, and Rhys’ felt his own face heat under the intense gaze fixed on him.

Dropping the towel, Axton ran his thumb lightly over Rhys’ bottom lip, trailing down to gently lift his chin to get a better look at the tattooed side of his throat. Rhys let out a quiet sigh as warm lips descended on the circular markings, the occasional scrape of stubble against his skin as Axton traced them with burning kisses and swipes of his tongue.

Sensation licked through his nerves like electricity as the edge of Axton's teeth dragged over the sensitive skin. He tugged on the hem of Axton’s wet shirt impatiently until the other man pulled away. Shrugging the towel off his shoulders, Axton gave Rhys an encouraging little nod before raising his toned arms above his head.

Rhys pulled the wet fabric up to reveal a criss-crossed map of battle scars beneath. Dropping the shirt to the floor with a soggy plop, Rhys’ fingers ghosted over the pale lines scattered over the tight muscles of Axton’s abs, which twitched slightly under the cold metal of the company man's cybernetic hand. There wasn’t much natural light on a space station, but adventuring across the border worlds had left Axton's skin with a sun kissed glow.

“Your turn, Darlin,’” Axton said quietly, hands moving to the collar of Rhys’s damp shirt to work on the slippery buttons. Goosebumps prickled over his bare chest as Axton peeled the soaked dress shirt off him. Warm, callused palms ran over the smooth, tattooed skin of Rhys’ arm and shoulder as if the ex-soldier was committing the patterns to memory. His teeth were no longer chattering but Rhys shivered under the light touches.

Rhys ran his fingers through Axton’s cropped hair and tugged the other man into a heated kiss. Large hands slid around his slender waist and pulled Rhys flush against him, their still-damp skin sticking slightly on contact. Rhys hummed into the soft lips against his, his tongue darting out for a tentative taste, Axton’s tongue eagerly licking against his in return.

Preoccupied with the deepening kiss and subtle sweetness of the other man's mouth, Rhys' fingers groped for Axton' belt, their kiss growing needy and sloppy as flesh and robotic fingers fumbled with the buckle.

Following Rhys’ lead, Axton’s fingers worked their way down, palming the damp front of Rhys’ pants. Rhys moaned low in the back of his throat, nipping at Axton’s bottom lip.

Their wet pants and underwear soon joined the growing pile on the floor, and they stood fully naked in Axton’s tiny bathroom, breath heavy, the creeping blush of arousal chasing away the cold chill from their bare skin.

Green eyes dark with want, Axton tightened his grip on Rhys’ hips as he rutted against him, their erections bumping together clumsily. Rhys cried out at the friction as Axton pulled him closer, hard lengths trapped tightly between them. Rhys looked down and saw their tips peeking up between their abdomens, drops of pre come collecting over the fleshy heads, the sight sending a shock of heat to his groin. Grinding their hips in tandem, their cocks rubbed against each other in an intoxicating dance Rhys couldn't tear his gaze from.

“Bedroom?” Rhys panted out, body wriggling in Axton’s grip.

Axton chuckled. “Read my mind, Darlin’.”

He stepped back, pulling them into the hallway and through the door to his room. They flopped gracelessly onto the mattress, the room dark save for the light flooding in from the hall. Not wasting anytime, Rhys planted his long legs on either side of Axton’s body, raising himself up to straddle the strong thighs beneath him. Axton’s cock arched up heavily, the flushed shaft in vivid contrast against the bronzed skin and coarse patch of hair at it’s base.

Rhys’ hips jutted forward into Axton’s hand as a thumb swiped over his swollen tip, letting loose a low groan as Axton spread the slick pre over his shaft and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “You sure you wanna do this, Rhys?”

“God, yes” Rhys whispered, pressing forward insistenty into Axton’s hand, urging him to continue.

“That’s all the invitation I need,” he grinned. With one hand still working Rhys, who was growing increasingly desperate under the attention, Axton grabbed a small tube from the battered bedside stand with his other hand. Rhys whined low in the back of his throat at the loss of the tight warmth around him as Axton squeezed out a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

Dropping down onto his palms, Rhys pressed his hands into the threadbare covers on either side of Axton’s face. He felt fingers circle his puckered entrance, a cool drop of lube rolling down over his balls.

Placing a steadying hand on the small of Rhys’ back, Axton pressed a finger of his other hand past the tight ring of muscle, stroking tentatively at the hot inner walls as Rhys let out a shaky breath above him. Rhys bit his lip, a fresh rush of heat colouring his cheeks as Axton’s eyes drank in his reactions hungrily. Another finger pushed into him, easing in to the knuckle.

The stretch around the thick digits was a bit uncomfortable, and Rhys tried to relax. The slow, steady push and pull of Axton’s fingers gradually worked the discomfort away, and soon Rhys was pressing back wantonly into the fingers stroking within him. He cried out, dropping down to his elbows and burying his face in Axton’s neck as he felt fingers brush his prostate. Axton's fingers wriggled inside him, eagerly seeking out the same spot. When Axton hit it again Rhys swore under his breath, his skin tingling and nerves singing.

“That feel good, Darlin’?” Axton whispered huskily, nuzzling the side of Rhys’ head as his digits drew out another muffled cry. Rhys nodded, nipping at the shallow scar cutting across Axton’s jaw before pushing himself up off his elbows.

He gave a sultry look down, trailing a path down to Axton’s navel with a robotic finger before swiping it over the rigid underside of the other man’s thick cock. “But I know what will feel better.”

Rhys watched the adam’s apple in Axton’s throat bob as the other man swallowed, fingers slipping out of Rhys and rummaging blindly in the beside drawer. “Here,” Rhys offered, leaning over and grabbing a condom from the cluttered drawer. Axton looked on intently as Rhys ripped open the wrapper and reached between them, his dick twitching in interest as lithe fingers rolled the condom over and down his shaft.

Axton squeezed out another glob of lube and spread it over himself. Rhys, more than a little impatiently, lowered himself down, the wet tip teasing at his entrance. He knew he should be taking this slow given how long it'd been, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Axton rumbled out, the tips of his ears blushed red. His eyes drifted between their bodies as Rhys eased down, the slick head pressing past tight muscle. Rhys sucked in a shuddering breath. His body instinctively willed him to retreat from the intrusion, while at the same time demanding more.

Axton swore low under his breath, his large hands running over Rhys’s thighs soothingly. He slid down around Axton slowly, a dull ache pulsing through him as he sunk down inch by inch. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow, a hoarse gasp slipping from his lips as he took Axton to the hilt. Jaw tight, Rhys steeled himself, the overwhelming feel of fullness simultaneousy too much and not enough.

Heart thudding in his chest, Rhys gave an experimental wriggle of his hips and relished in the throaty groan Axton awarded him. A hot pulse of pleasure bloomed through him at the movement, and he took up a slow rhythm, palms pressed to Axton’s chest as he began lifting up and dropping back down, his head swimming each time his body came down flush against Axton’s heated skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Axton moaned, green eyes taking in every shiver, every shuddering breath, every lift and drop of Rhys’ hips.

His cock, pink and dripping, bobbed against Axton’s abdomen as Rhys felt the tight coil of pressure building within him, his pace growing frantic as the tension wound tighter within him.

“Ah-God, that’s good,” Rhys gasped out, pressing back shamelessly, breaths ragged, skin prickling as he ground his hips down. His back arched and his disheveled hair fell in loose strands over his forehead as he rode Axton, the haze of lust in the green eyes that met his spurring him on.

Rough fingers gripped his hips tightly, stilling Rhys’ movements and holding him still. Rhys let out a displeased whimper that broke off into a near sob of pleasure as Axton thrust up hard into him, knees bent with feet planted against the sheets. Rhys shouted as he was jostled by an onslaught of powerful thrusts that drove Axton’s cock deeper and deeper inside him. Rhys dug his fingers into the tough muscle of Axton’s shoulders, a stream of incoherent praises and encouragement spilling from his parted lips.

“Too much?” Axton grunted, only a trace of the usual playful tone, his own skin glistening as his sought out the warm caramel of Rhys’ eyes in concern as his hips set a brutal pace. Knuckles white as he gripped Axton’s arms to keep himself steady, loud cries spilled from his lips each time Axton’s blunt tip hit his prostate.

“Plea-AH! Please don’t stop!” Rhys gasped out desperately, his robotic arm latching harder to Axton’s shoulder as his flesh hand moved to frantically pull at his weeping erection. “I-I’m so close, Axton!”

Green eyes flashed with need as Rhys panted his name. The fingers on his hips gripped tight enough to bruise as Axton pulled his hips down to meet each upward thrust, bouncing Rhys on his cock under the force of his movements.

With a loud shout, head thrown back, Rhys’ went taut as he climaxed. His vision whited out as thick ropes of come painted Axton’s abdomen, his ears ringing with white noise as waves of pleasure coursed through him.

Through the fog of orgasm, Rhys felt blunt nails dig into his pale skin as Axton’s hips slammed up into the constricting heat. “Oh fuck!” Axton gasped, reaching his own finish, grinding hard against Rhys’ ass as he came with a low growl.

Limbs heavy with exhaustion, Rhys gingerly pulled up off Axton’s softening cock, his knees shaking badly before he collapsed at Axton’s side on the small bed. He was vaguely aware of Axton chucking the used condom into a trash bin and swiping a tissue over his stomach before rolling onto his side to face Rhys. His large hand came up to brush the loose strands of hair from Rhys’ sweat-damp forehead.

“Goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” Axton drawled again, thumb tracing a high cheekbone. “A terrible shot, but —“

Rhys snickered, flicking Axton’s chest lightly in retaliation for the jab. “Don’t turn that into a dick joke, please, I’m too tired,” Rhys mumbled, eyelids heavy. Axton chortled as he shuffled closer, throwing an arm over Rhys’ shoulders.

“I’ll save this one for later then,” he continued, as Rhys nestled in closer, their chests rising and falling as their breathing gradually slowed. “Maybe at breakfast tomorrow.”

The statement was flippant, but Rhys didn’t miss the unspoken _"If you’ll still be here.”_

It had been a very long time since Rhys had been in a position to share a bed with anyone. He definitely didn’t feel like getting up, and the idea of waking up next to Axton was pretty appealing.

Rhys closed his eyes, feeling the beginnings of soreness creep up into his muscles, the comforting warmth of Axton's body drawing him toward sleep.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone tries telling you that writing sex scenes is easy, they are a LIAR lol :'D Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, it was a challenge but a fun one!


	5. It's Not a Third Nipple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some messy ends and uncertain beginnings, and a healthy dose of embarrassment for Rhys.
> 
>  
> 
> (There's honestly not that much about nipples in this chapter I just can't think up good titles.)

Jack drummed his fingers on the boardroom tabletop. The Head of Helios Security (Fred? Ned?) was droning on and on about some training initiative for newly hired guards, and the vein in Jack’s temple was poised to burst. It’d been 30 minutes of this garbage, and Jack was getting progressively crabbier listening to this asshole prattle on.

He decided to give it five more minutes, though he doubted that’d be enough time for the guy to prove his usefulness. Jack’s mismatched eyes trailed over the high gloss finish of the boardroom table, reflections of the department heads’ similarly bored faces mirrored in its polished surface.

What a waste, Jack thought darkly. A lot of money had been sunk into this room, from the thick red carpet under their shoes to the luxurious wood furnishings, all of which had been shipped from one of the Edens at considerable expense. The room was made for grandeur, for larger than life executives with even bigger egos, where historic business ventures were made. The room deserved better than these wheezing blow hards.

Five minutes was up.

“Lemme stop you right there, Ed,” Jack’s voice cut into the endless chatter like a knife. The interruption knocked the air out of the Head of Security, who wobbled on the spot at the head of the table as if he’d been struck, his stubby fingers clutching the back of a vacant chair for balance. His lips trembled slightly before he blurted out “I-it’s Ted, sir.” The other department heads looked down to their laps or pretended to go over their notes, not daring to meet their CEO’s gaze.

Jack calmly ordered everyone else out, the collective held breaths whooshing out as they scrambled to collect their papers and datapads before filing out, like lines of ants, hurrying back to the colony.

Once the last suit-clad figure left and shut the heavy doors behind them, Jack clicked a few buttons on a remote resting by his elbow. The lights in the boardroom dimmed, and a massive monitor descended from a slot in the ceiling at the front of the room. He clicked another button before throwing the remote carelessly across the table with a clatter, and a video flickered to life on the giant screen. Security footage of two men running through narrow corridors played on a grainy, silent loop.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong here, Teddy,” Jack said evenly, raising himself out of his chair, eyes boring holes into Ted’s stupid, round face. Beads of sweat had started peppering the thick forehead below the Security Head’s sparse shock of coarse red hair. “I’ve brought up the weaknesses in Helios security several times with you, yeah? And each time, I’m pretty sure — no, scratch that — I’m positive — you assured me they would all be addressed.”

The stream of words met no resistance as Ted just stood there, letting the CEO’s words pelt him like fistfuls of pebbles thrown into a pond.

Jack balled up his fist and banged it against the table, causing Ted to jump. Making his way slowly around the table, Jack continued. “So I gotta ask you some questions here, Ted-O; With all those holes in our systems addressed, mind telling me how two asshats met zero resistance sneaking through the goddamned security level?” As he stalked around the table, Jack picked up a chunky paperweight made of black volcanic stone from Hephaestus, and tossed it back and forth between his large hands. “Oh, and using your security clearance to do it, no less?”

As he drew closer, Jack saw that Ted was shaking, his teeth clattering in mounting fear. “Not to mention,” Jack’s voice grew louder, filling the darkened corners of the room while still tossing the paperweight from hand to hand. “Just spit ballin’ here, but seems like there was, what was it — oh yeah; an experimental species outbreak in R&D? Where several samples went missing? I expect that sort of sloppiness from Torgue operations, but they definitely don’t fly here at Hyperion.”

Jack came to a halt, looming over the Head of Security who was a full head shorter. Ted’s eyes bugged out of his face in terror, transfixed on Jack’s narrowed eyes, lips flapping uselessly as nothing but silence came out.

“Last question,” Jack grit out, aggressively throwing the paperweight into his opposite hand without taking his eyes off the shrinking employee. “What kind of shitshow are you running here, Teddy boy?”

“Sir, I - I don’t…”

With a sickening crack, Jack smashed the paperweight into Ted’s temple. The man was down instantly, his fingers twitching sporadically against the red carpet as a pool of darker crimson seeped slowly out from his bashed in skull.

Jack tossed the paperweight over his shoulder, the heavy stone thudding against the carpeted floor and rolling under a chair. “That,” Jack spat, stepping over the body, “was a rhetorical question, pumpkin.”

He leaned in toward the giant screen where the security camera footage was still looping. “Angel,” Jack barked. Waiting for his ECHO to crackle to life before continuing. “Let HR know there’s a vacancy to fill in Security, and that the replacement better be a hell of a lot more competent than Teddy Boy here.”

The air crackled in silence. “Was that…necessary?” Angel’s voice was quiet, as if she didn’t actually expect an answer.

“What? Oh, that. C’mon, if you hadn’t been keeping tabs on Legs and jumped in to bring the camera’s back online, we’d have no idea who set off that fire alarm.” Jack paced in front of the screen, kicking out his foot to strike Ted’s lifeless body as he passed. “I’ve been working my goddamned ass off trying to make heads or tails of the leads on Pandora while skidmarks like this make more work for me here.”

A resigned sigh buzzed over the ECHO connection. “Very well, Jack. I’ll send the request to HR.”

“That’s my girl,” Jack crowed fondly.

“But...don’t you have an assistant for this kind of thing?” Angel asked, her voice gaining back a bit of confidence.

Jack snorted. “Christ, you mean Meg?” With his attention divided between Helios and Pandora, he’d become acutely aware that half the idiots on this space station could hardly tie their shoelaces without him around. Even when her attention was divided though, he could still count on his Angel.

“Oh, and one more thing, doll face,” Jack ordered, glaring at the security footage. “Find out who Legs is making friends with. I wanna know who this idiot is, and if he’s going to be a problem.”

  
~

  
_[10:31] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: seen yvette today?_

 

_[10:37] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: ?_

 

_[10:40] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: ???_

 

_[10:40] its_vaughn: God, I hate your screen name._

 

_[10:41] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: you’ve been saying that for years man_

 

_[10:43] its_vaughn: Because I still hate it._

 

_[10:44] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: lol whatever i’m not changing it, deal with it_

 

_[10:44] its_vaughn: Don’t change it for me, change it for your boyfriend. And while you’re at it, take down those posters. No one needs 4 Handsome Jack motivation posters over their desk._

 

_[10:45] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: ha ha :/_

 

_[10:47] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: c’mon bro i told yvette i’d help debug her comm but haven’t seen her_

 

_[10:50] its_vaughn: She’s out sick._

 

_[10:50] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: whoa what she’s never sick_

 

_[10:53] its_vaughn: Yeah, she thinks it was something she ate, had to go to the infirmary last night to get her stomach pumped._

 

_[10:53] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: D:_

 

_[10:53] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: shit_

 

_[10:55] its_vaughn: She’s ok, has to take some time off, told us to save our presents and free lunches for when she’s feeling better._

 

_[10:56] Xx_JackyBoi_xX: lol_

  
“Let’s go.”

Rhys’ knees banged into the underside of his desk hard enough to upset his mug as he jumped, startled by the gruff voice over his shoulder. Scrambling to right the cup and move his keyboard away from the puddle of coffee, Rhys whipped his head around and saw Wilhelm’s face scowling over the cubicle wall. Heart still racing slightly from the scare, Rhys cleared his throat and straightened his tie, attempting to regain his composure.

“Uh, hi, you — you kinda snuck up on me,” he laughed nervously. Wilhelm said nothing, oblivious to the fact that several Hyperion workers were actively gawking behind him. The intimidating, threatening aura Wilhelm radiated was drawing curious looks and pointing from half the department.

“Let’s go,” he repeated. Rhys waited for more of an explanation, but it became apparent Wilhelm wouldn’t elaborate. “Um, ok…just a sec.” Rhys locked his holomonitor, hoping Vaughn wouldn't feel snubbed when Rhys left their chat without a word. He did his best to mop up the coffee spill now dripping off the desk to the floor, and stepped out of his cubicle. Wilhelm turned and started stomping away, not sparing a glance to see if Rhys followed. Jogging slightly to catch up, Wilhelm’s heavy footfalls drowned out the low murmur of office chatter and clicking of keyboards.

“So…” Rhys said, taking a stab at the silence as Wilhelm thudded along a step ahead. “Am I allowed to know were we’re heading? Or what we’re doing? Because no one's actually told me anything --”

Wilhelm didn’t so much as grunt in reply, keeping his steady pace through a hallway branching away from the Hub of Heroism.

“Right, that’s a no then,” Rhys muttered. They approached a small group of Helios workers chatting in the corridor. Wilhelm kept onward, elbowing one of the bewildered staff out of his way, the rest scrambled to move out of their path. Rhys resisted the urge to laugh as other co-workers pressed up against the walls of the hall to avoid them as Wilhelm led them further into the depths of Helios.

They stopped at an elevator bank and Wilhelm jabbed the call button with more force than was really necessary. While they waited, Rhys glanced sidelong at his companion. He tried to get a better look at the cybernetic in place of Wilhelm’s eye, without being caught staring. Fully functioning optical cybernetics, at least as far as Rhys was aware, were still fairly obscure. Judging by the jagged scars left from incisions and staples, plus the glassy, slightly tarnished hardware, Wilhelm’s procedure had been done some time ago with limited tools and expertise.

Continuing to peek from the corner of his eye, Rhys looked over the other cybernetic enhancements, which in comparison, must have cost a fortune. When Rhys was a kid, he could only dream of having high-grade prosthetics like these, making do with outdated and sometimes barely functional models for most of his youth. 

The elevator arrived and Wilhelm marched forward before the current occupants had time to exit, causing them to hastily sidle around his hunkering form with Rhys close at his heels.

“I like your arm,” Wilhelm barked as he stabbed at the button panel, the elevator beginning it’s decent as soon as the doors slid shut. Rhys glanced over in surprise, but Wilhelm was staring straight forward and didn’t meet his gaze. “Oh…thanks,” he answered dumbly, slightly taken aback.

“Old though.”

“…Yeah,” Rhys replied, shifting from foot to foot nervously, the words of what little conversation they’d managed between them dead in the air. It dawned on him that he’d be sharing a whole lot more of these awkward moments with Wilhelm, if they really were supposed to be working together like Jack had said. The prospect of spending prolonged periods of time with someone he couldn’t even carry a conversation with was daunting, but Rhys guess if that was the extent of his troubles on this project, he could count himself lucky.

Some of Rhys’ trepidation faded when the doors opened on the Robotics Division. The walls, floor, and even the furniture in the small waiting area were all the same surgical steel, their sterilized surfaces gleaming under the bright overheard lights. He gave a small wave to the receptionist that greeted them as the two men continued their trek through the corridors Rhys had travelled dozens of times before.

When his Hyperion employee benefits had finally kicked in after his first year of work, Rhys had been able to take advantage of the cybernetics perks, replacing his old appendage that had barely made it though university with the one he had now. He’d still had to pay the hefty fees through instalments, but that was nothing compared to what he’d have to pay without the perks of working at Hyperion. As required under the program, he still made regular visits here for routine checkups and maintenance.

They passed posters hung on the walls in even intervals, the only spots of colour in the clinical space. Some documented developments in the history of Hyperion’s robotics teams, others touted the features and promises of recent releases. They reached a door at the end of the hall, which was their apparent destination, and Wilhelm yanked it open. “In,” Wilhelm grumbled, jerking his head toward the entrance as the company man hovered uncertainly.

Rhys was barely through the door when his steps faultered again. Handsome Jack was leaning against the examination table looking bored, his eyes snapping to Rhys’ as Wilhelm shut the door on them.

“The hell took you two so long, cupcake?” Jack stood upright, arms crossed over his chest. Unsure how to answer, Rhys was about to apologize when Jack cut him off. “Nevermind, let’s get to it.”

Jack clapped one of his hands on the metal surface of the examination table, looking at Rhys expectantly like one would look at a dog being called. “Hop on up, kiddo, gotta see what we’re working with here.”

Rhys moved to perch on the edge of the low metal slab, feeling incredibly self-conscious and utterly lost as Jack looked him over. “Uh, sir?” Rhys started hesitantly, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. “What exactly are we —“

Jack turned away abruptly and pressed some buttons on a nearby wall panel. “Hold that thought. And lose the shirt.”

“Sir?”

Jack huffed impatiently as he sauntered back. “All this —“ Jack gestured emphatically to Rhys’ upper attire, “ — Off. C’mon, before the doc gets here. What’ve you got, skag piss in your ears?”

Rhys frowned indignantly. “I’ve seen the doctors here before and never had to —“

“Listen kiddo,” Jack interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was the one being put out. “It’s gonna make things a whole lot easier if you don’t play 20 questions every step of the way.” Rhys made a tight line with his lips, reminding himself that this was his boss and he probably shouldn’t snap back at him. Jack was doing a pretty poor job explaining why they were in Robotics at all, if anyone should be frustrated, it was Rhys.

When Rhys didn’t move, Jack groaned, both hands coming up to rub at his temples. “This isn’t some oil change for that antique of yours. They’re gonna check out your ticker, take some blood samples, give you a good once over to make sure you’re not gonna keel over on us when we replace that hunk of junk connected to your dumb ass.”

“You’re replacing my arm?” Rhys asked, eyes widening in surprise, ignoring the insult tacked onto the end of that statement.

Jack rolled his eyes and regarded Rhys as if he were a particularly dumb piece of furniture. “Yeah, you’d think you’d be a little more accommodating seeing as how it looks like that thing’s seen better days,” Jack retorted. Rhys wanted to fire back that he’d been dragged away from his desk and asked to strip without any preamble, and that any sane person would have a few questions in his situation. He said nothing, clamping his mouth shut again.

Jack eyed him, as if waiting for Rhys to argue some more. “I’m not asking you to move mountains here, princess.”

Rhys didn’t fancy disrobing in front of a relative stranger, but he also had other reasons for not wanting to take his shirt off in front of his boss, aside from modesty. But, given the circumstances, and Jack’s growing ill temper, co-operation seemed the safest choice.

“…Alright.”

He loosened his tie, taking it off and setting it down next to him. Rhys’ felt his face begin to heat as he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders, struggling a little as he always did as the fabric caught on the plates and joints of his robotic limb.

Jack’s eyebrows arched up toward his coiffed hair, and a gleeful grin spread across his face. Rhys knew he must be turning a magnificent shade of crimson, the cool air of the examination room doing little to counter the flush of embarrassment. He fixed his eyes meekly at a spot on the wall above Jack’s head.

“Whoa, someone’s been busy,” Jack snickered. Rhys had never so badly wished to have the floor open up and swallow him whole. He didn’t need to look down to be reminded that there were several dark hickeys scattered over his neck and chest. Little souvenirs from the last time he’d spent the night at Axton’s.

“Man, when you got all shy and crap, I just thought you had a third nipple or something. This is so much better,” Jack cackled in delight.

“Can we please just, get on with the exam, or whatever? Please,” Rhys begged, attempting to recall the last time he’d been this humiliated at work. 

With great difficulty he pulled his eyes off the wall and met his boss’ gaze. Jack’s grin was ridiculously wide, like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. Which was fitting, Rhys thought gloomily, as he felt like a pretty big joke right about now.

Just when Rhys didn’t think it was possible for his face to burn any hotter, Jack gave him another head-to-toe once over, and with a lecherous laugh proclaimed “It’s a good look for you, pumpkin.”

The door opened again, giving a quick view of Wilhelm standing guard in the hall, before a young woman entered and shut it behind her. She peered over chunky black-framed glasses, eyes sharp and alert, making no comment on her patient’s mosaic of hickeys.

Rhys had never met with this doctor before; Her hair was smoothed into a stylish bob, and she wore an ankle-length black suit dress cinched with a wide leather belt beneath her open lap coat. She looked like she’d stepped out of a snooty, high-end office fashion ad, but her face was kind, a splash of obsidian lipstick on her smiling lips.

“Good morning, I’m Doctor Anthony,” she started, approaching the examination table and immediately focusing in on Rhys’ robotic appendage. Engrossed in examining the scar tissue and connections, she spoke into Rhys’ shoulder. “I’ll be performing the upgrade procedure today, so long as you pass the physical examination beforehand.”

“You’re in good hands here, kiddo,” Jack said matter-of-factly as the examination room door opened again and a nurse wheeled in a small push-cart laid with an assortment of medical tools. “She’s one of the best when it comes to sticking robot parts to human parts.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Dr. Anthony mused offhandedly as she examined the joints in Rhys’ cybernetic arm. “This is a reliable, but slightly outdated model,” she said, looking to Rhys for the nod of approval before getting to work on disconnecting the various plugs and ports that joined him to his prosthetic. “Gail here is going to take some blood samples, and run some quick tests before we fit you with your new arm.”

Rhys, who felt he was being incredibly accommodating given the circumstances, still had a laundry list of questions. “That’s great,” he answered, genuinely pleased at the prospect of an upgrade. “But…not that I’m not grateful or anything…why exactly is Hyperion replacing my arm?” When he saw Jack raise an eyebrow at him, Rhys quickly followed up. “I just mean,” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “It’s great, but I haven’t even fully paid off this one yet.”

Jack raised his hand dismissively, waving away this tidbit of information like an annoying gnat. “This isn’t a charity, Rhysie. I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart here,” Jack answered curtly. “You’re getting an upgrade because that hunk of tin’ll disintegrate after the first ten minutes training with Wilhelm.”

Rhys swallowed. Before he could form any wild conclusions as to what Wilhelm would be teaching him, the principal joint in his arm unhooked with a loud click, and Rhys had the usual, uncomfortable sensation of being thrown off balance as his arm was removed. “Sorry,” Dr. Anthony apologized, her face sympathetic. “I know how disorienting this can be.” She carefully held Rhys’ robotic limb and stepped back to let the orderly take over. “I’ll be back in about 30 minutes, until then please co-operate with Gail as she proceeds with the examination.”

And with that, Rhys said a silent goodbye to his old arm as Doctor Anthony walked it out of the room.

~

“You work at one messed up company,” Axton said sagely, taking a swig of his beer.

Rhys, perched on the kitchen countertop across the room, gulped down his own beer. The former Dahl soldier sat on the couch in Axton’s small apartment. “We work at the same place,” Rhys corrected, a shudder trickling through him as the alcohol left a bitter taste in his mouth. “And you have terrible taste in beer, by the way,” he teased, swilling the remaining liquid in the amber bottle.

“It’s not that bad,” Axton sounded offended, holding his own bottle up to eye level. “Besides, not much selection on this heap, ‘less I want one of those fancy, flowery craft brews they sell on the entertainment levels.” He tipped his bottle back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank deeply. “Nothing like the beer back on Hieronymous,” he lamented, setting the empty on the floor by his foot.

Rhys placed his unfinished bottle on the kitchen counter and hopped down. His socks were a cheerful, lime green adorned with bright yellow lemons, a glaring contrast to the dull beige linoleum of the kitchenette beneath his feet. He held out his new cybernetics before him, admiring the gleaming yellow and black, not so dissimilar from his old one, just more polished and streamlined, with glowing sections of blue light cut into the the forearm and bicep.

After Doctor Anthony had returned to let him know he had a clean bill of health, she’d gotten straight to work hooking up the new arm. Rhys had comm’d Axton after completing the afternoon of mandatory motor skills tests. This was nothing new, and had to be done each time he had a new prosthetic fitted or repaired. Putting his new arm through seemingly mundane tasks, from picking up and throwing objects of varying shapes and sizes, to completing small puzzles and typing exercises, Rhys was impressed at the fluidity and responsiveness of this model. It was leaps and bounds ahead of anything he’d been equipped with in the past.

Flexing his silver fingers against the yellow plates of his palm, he looked over the shallow, circular depression in the centre. The smooth glass lens inlaid in the middle looked like the blue lights on the other sections, though this one was dark. Jack had grinned conspiratorially when Rhys had asked what it was. “You’ll find out soon enough, kiddo.”

Rhys backtracked to the topic of the day’s events. “It’s not so weird,” he said defensively, his arm dropping back to his side. “They’re just giving me the best tools for whatever project they’ll have me working on,” he reasoned.

“A project they still haven’t given you any real info on,” Axton reminded him, stretching his arms over the back of the sofa. “Seriously, even when I was a lowly grunt, the higher ups gave us more mission details then these suits are giving you, Darlin'.”

There was some truth to Axton’s words; by now, Rhys was used to working on secretive deals, either due to their dubious legality, or to keep competitive co-workers at bay, but he’d never been involved in something quite like this. He’d definitely never worked on anything monitored so closely by their Hyperion CEO.

Jack had stayed through the entire procedure and physio. Observing along with Dr. Anthony, he’d cracked snide remarks, and made lewd suggestions that Rhys could save further “grip” tests for the privacy of his hab suite. But despite his cavalier demeanour, he’d watched intently as Rhys cycled through the tests presented, which made the simple tasks a bit more daunting. Still, he’d aced them with his new arm, and Rhys had caught Jack nodding in approval more than once.

Rhys tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t help feeling pleased at even the minute attention from a superior, especially when that superior was Handsome Jack.

Sock clad feet padded across the faded floor, and Rhys stood in front of the couch looking down at Axton. “I’ll find out more tomorrow,” he stated resolutely, reassuring himself more than anything. He moved to sit down, but Axton caught his wrist and pulled Rhys down into his lap instead. “The arm does look nice, babe, I’ll give ‘em that,” Axton hummed as he nuzzled Rhys’ throat.

“Hey,” Rhys scolded, but there was no fire in his voice. “I already got grief for the marks you left there last time.”

“So I’ll make some new ones,” Axton mouthed against the skin behind Rhys’ ear. Rhys squirmed in a half-hearted escape attempt before relaxing into the warm body behind him, thick arms wrapped tight around his midsection. Axton continued kissing and nipping at his neck and ear, sending tickling licks of sensation down Rhys’ spine.

One of the Axton’s palms rested lightly over Rhys’ abdomen for a moment, and the slighter man shifted, a bit uncomfortable. Rhys was always a bit self-conscious of any attention to his less-than-defined stomach, which had seen one too many late night bowls of ice cream. Axton’s hands continued to roam upward over the buttons and thin folds of the teal coloured shirt. Rhys signed quietly as Axton’s fingers dragged over his nipples through the light fabric.

“How—mmm, how about your day?” Rhys asked, somewhat breathlessly. He let his head fall back to rest against a sturdy shoulder, running his own flesh and robotic hands over Axton’s clothed thighs in a gentle rhythm. Axton shrugged into his neck. “Same old. Heard my boss got let go, otherwise nothing new.”

Rhys turned his head quizzically, the angle somewhat awkward, but Axton’s mouth was on his before he could question what exactly “let go” meant in this case. Rhys groaned into the kiss, the malty tang on Axton’s tongue making his head spin. “I can’t stay too late tonight,” Rhys confessed reluctantly, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat as Axton rolled his nipples to hard buds through the dress shirt.

Axton smiled against his lips. “Good thing it’s still early then, Darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, and it was a bit tough diving back into this one with everything going on irl, but going back and re-reading everyone's lovely comments honestly helped a lot :'D So thank you! And hope you like this chapter!


	6. Meeting Your Heroes

“Talk to me Angel. I need a Vault Hunter, and I need 'em yesterday.”

Angel sat on the floor, back against one of the consoles ringing the platform, scrolling idly on a data pad. Jack waited expectantly, eying the device in her delicate hands. It had been a gift, given to his daughter the Mercenary Day before last. He'd spent days loading a massive library of novels onto the deceptively small electronic.

He’d temporarily lowered the eridium input, retracting the usual protections so they could visit, but Angel had hardly looked in his direction once.

Not looking up, The Siren raised her arm, an ethereal shimmer emanating from the tattoos snaking over her skin. The screens mounted on the wall fizzed to life, casting an eerie glow in the low light.

“I’ve found someone with great potential. His name is Zer0. Or at least, he's called that. No one knows his real name, and —“

Jack groaned, turning away from the lanky, masked figure onscreen. “No! No, no, no. Next!” He shouted. “I hate those 'mysterious warrior' types. Nine times out of ten, there's nothing actually special about them.”

 _Other than how stunningly low their IQ is_ , Jack thought irritably.

The screen crackled as the footage began to play. “Who else you got…” The CEO trailed off as the masked figure swathed an elegant, bloody path through bone and sinew like it was butter, hardly giving his foes chance to scream. Chunks of bandits fell in a shower of carnage as the assassin’s blade slashed the air.

With a quick whip of his wrist the masked figure shook the blood from his sword, sheathing it in one graceful move. The voice that rang out in the silence sounded unnatural, mechanical. “ _Leaves falling from trees / Snow drifting onto the ground / Life leaving your corpse._ ”

The recording ended abruptly, and silence echoed off the thick walls. Jack’s mouth was slightly agape, an eyebrow arched incredulously at the now blank screen.

“Did that guy…just speak in Haiku?” He asked in disbelief. “What's this Zero guy doing on Pandora in the first place?” _Christ_ , Jack thought, the planet must have a magnetic core that drew these freakshows to it like flies to trash.

Angel shrugged her thin shoulders, face neutral. “I dunno.”

Jack’s head swivelled to his daughter, attempting to ignore the less than cordial way she was treating him. He knew she wasn’t too keen on this setup, so he exercised every ounce of patience he could muster.

“Angel, you've got a brain the size of a planet. Don't give me 'I dunno.’”

Angel pursed her lips. “From what footage we have of him, I can't even tell if Zer0’s human or not.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not human? Is he a robot? An alien? What?”

Angel raised her head, shooting a pointed look at her father. “I dunno,” she repeated in the same toneless voice. “Zer0 has been on Pandora for a few weeks. I have satellite footage of him... conversing with the locals.”

“Roll it.”

The screens came to life again, a window into some pisshole bar. The gawking patron seated on a barstool chortled as he poked the assassin’s shoulder, despite the bartender’s many urgings for him to stop. Jack let out a startled bray of laughter as Zero's sword struck the patron’s head from his shoulders with no more effort than snipping the stem of a flower.

“Well,” Jack smirked as chaos unfolded on the monitors, the guy’s head landing with a thud before rolling across the dirty plank flooring. “When you're right, you're right, Angel. I think this guy will do nicely. Put ‘em on the list.”

“Yes, Jack…I…”

The CEO glanced sidelong at his daughter. She wasn’t meeting his gaze but had stopped scrolling, her finger hovering inches above the data pad screen, it’s motion forgotten.

He waited. She hadn’t fought him on the move to the Control Core, either out of guilt or out of obedience, who knew. But he’d heard the hesitation in her voice as they reviewed the other potential Vault Hunters, and he wanted it put to rest.

She set the data pad aside gently, turning her chin up to Jack, face pinched. “Why are you bothering with these people, these Vault Hunters?”

“Excuse me?” Jack sputtered indignantly in surprise.

Angel’s lips formed a resolute line. She cleared her throat before continuing, a burst of confidence bolstering the volume in her voice. “Why bother? Why seek out and recruit people who might not even get in your way if you just leave them alone?”

Jack’s bitter chortle bounced off the reinforced walls. “Leave them alone?” He repeated. “Leave them alone!? Oh baby doll, that’s cute, that’s real cute.” He made a show of wiping the mirth from his eyes. “You don’t just leave armed bandits intent on looting what’s rightfully yours to run amok on some godforsaken planet.”

“But Ja-“

“Nah nah nah,” Jack shushed her, waving his hands aggressively. “I’m gonna wipe the thieving scum from this asscrack of a planet,” he steamrolled forward, eyes burning with anger. “But before that, I’m gonna round up these Vault Hunters and end ‘em quick and painful before they can even get the idea in their empty skulls to screw this up for us.”

Angel, silent through his tirade, watched her father uneasily, thinly veiled fear in her wide eyes.

Jack checked the time. “I gotta get going,” he muttered, straightening his vest and smoothing back the locks of hair that had come loose in his agitation.

“One more thing; that security footage, anything on the numbskull running around with Legs?”

“His name is Axton.”

“No last name? What the hell is he, some cheap pop singer or something?”

“I dunno.”

Jack stared blankly at her for a moment, not sure if Angel was just being obstinate, but very certain he did not have much patience left. “There must be a resume or something, how’d he get on Helios without that or a background check?”

She sighed, voice even and calm, as if speaking to a child who should know better. “All forged, save for the first name. Security didn’t have a very good screening process. It looks like Axton used the former head of security's codes to gain access to the shooting range.”

Jack frowned. “You mean he stole security codes, and the only thing he used them for was target practice with a desk jockey?”

Angel ignored his interjection and continued. “Axton was on duty the night of the outbreak in Research and Development, and was one of the guards who eventually responded.” She paused, chewing her lip nervously.

“That eliminates him as a suspect in the break in. Which means,” She hedged, shoulders rising imperceptibly toward her ears as if preparing for a loud outburst. “We still don’t know who stole those samples. Or why.”

Jack swore under his breath.

“Language,” Angel chided tonelessly, eyes dropping back to her lap.

Jack glowered. He started to pace around the Control Core, his daughter watching silently from the corner of her eye, wringing her hands anxiously.

Stopping abruptly after a few thoughtful moments, Jack’s eyes lit up. A predatory grin spread across his lips.

“Perfect.”

Angel’s gaze shot up, genuine curiosity in her beautiful eyes. She looked ready to question him, but seemed to think better of it.

Eye twitching slightly, Jack’s grin faltered. “Babydoll, I came down for a visit and you’ve been treating me like fricken’ dirt under your fingernails.”

Angel’s voice was hollow. “A Visit,” she repeated, as if the word left a bad taste in her mouth. “You mean business trip.”

Jack's frown deepened. “Y’know, Angel, this moody adolescent crap is absolutely thrilling and all but — ”

Stepping forward, he dropped to one knee to bring himself eye level with her. His chest puffed up as he inhaled a deep, calming breath. He took in the dark circles under Angel’s eyes, siren tattoos shimmering weakly against her pale skin.

He’d done everything he could, looked for other options, and this had been the best one. The only one. The only way to make things right, to keep her safe. He knew she was strong enough, stubborn enough to go through with it. Deep down she must realize everything he’d sacrificed, how things would be better after this was all over.

She had to.

“I’m doing all this for you, sweetheart,” he said seriously, voice low.

Angel looked at him sadly, a defeated look on her face as she brought her knees up to her chin.

“You’re going to be late, Jack.”

Exhaustion hit him like a brick in the face, as did the reality that there was still so much more to do.

Groaning, the CEO got to his feet. “Try and be in a better mood next time,” he yelled irritably as he walked out, raising the shield and increasing the Eridum flow back to its normal levels. He sealed the core off at the control podium as he left, and Angel made no gesture or word of farewell as the heavy doors locked her in.

Pushing aside the less than cheerful visit with his daughter, the cogs in Jack’s mind moved into full gear as he reset the security features back on the surface. The patrolling bots and turrets paid him no mind as he departed.

The skyline of Opportunity shimmered in the distance, the skeletal beams and wires of half constructed high-rises stretching up above the early morning mist. He breathed in deep through his nose again, filling his lungs with the crisp dawn air. In a few hours the temperature would be sweltering, the air thick with Pandora’s oppressive heat.

The sight of Opportunity in the distance was like a shot of adrenaline, the promise of progress and of better beginnings, a concrete and symbolic goal.

Releasing his breath in a loud exhale, Jack got into the automated transport and initiated it’s launch protocols. He hardly noticed the uncomfortable pressure as the shuttle broke atmo, pressing up towards the seat of his empire as it hurtled him into the vacuum of space.

The shaking of the transport subsided and the ride smoothed out as the hazy dawn light gave way to velvety dark as the shuttle cut a clean line through the empty distance.

He should be able to kill two birds with one stone — maybe even three, he mused. The lack of data on the buffoon accompanying Legs in the security vid was disturbing. Thank god he’d killed that dickhead Ned. Or Fred? The idiot’s name was worth less than the paperweight he’d smashed his skull with. Who knew what other garbage had been allowed onto his station under the decidedly poor judgement of that jackass.

Still, this posed the perfect opportunity for him to lock down another piece of his project. Everything was coming along nicely, as he’d planned it. However, while pivotal to the whole venture, Jack still had concerns about Legs. From experience, he’d learned that trusting anyone was as good as attaching a “Stab me” sign to one’s back.

But it was essential that his investment paid off, Jack thought, eyes focused on the silhouette of Helios in the distance.

A puppet didn’t need trust, only a hand to guide it.

~

Returning Vaughn’s wave as they parted down different hallways, Rhys stood tall and strode towards his department. He preened at the compliments, whispers, and suspicious looks the new arm was garnering as he made his way through the early morning Helios crowds.

For the umpteenth time, he ran the pads of his flesh fingers over the length of the appendage, relishing the smooth, unblemished metal under his touch, admiring the way it gleamed under the overhead lights.

He couldn’t help it. It was more than a high end prosthetic that looked and functioned fifty times better than his old one. It was also a very visible status symbol, the sleek cybernetic loudly proclaiming Rhys' rise up in the world.

As he walked, he caught sight of Vasquez, who glared back at him. Grinning, Rhys made a show of running the metal fingers of his cybernetic through his hair, flashing Vasquez the smuggest smile he could muster. A strand of hair got caught in one of his finger joints and tugged painfully but it was worth it for the look of sheer hatred Vasquez shot back.

There was also the satisfaction that, even if the circumstances of his upgrade weren’t widely known, Rhys would never forget that Handsome Jack himself had mandated and overseen the fitting of this new arm. After leaving Axton’s last night, he’d spent more time than was strictly necessary polishing and fussing over his arm. He’d only stopped when Vaughn had started teasing him about wearing the paint off.

Despite the boon to his ego and career, Rhys was starting to feel some of the weight of recent developments. It seemed like he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since the Maliwan hacking project that’d set this all in motion. He was excited to show off his skills and continue his upward climb within the company, to dig into whatever it was that he was intended to dig into.

That being said, if he was completely honest, there was also a flicker of unease burning in the pit of his stomach.

Rhys still wasn’t sure what he’d agreed to. What if he screwed it up? As much as he tried to brush it off, the company man admitted that Axton had a point. Why hand’t he been told any details? What kind of work required a new prosthetic? Failure could lead to the first negative blot on his file. Worse, what if he pissed off someone who was an idol, someone every Hyperion employee revered and feared.

Someone who had a nasty habit of disposing of employees he no longer saw use for.

Rhys shook his head. Furrowing his brow, he pushed his shoulders back, hastening his stride. He wouldn’t fail. He hadn’t come this far to fuck things up.

“Morning, sunshine.”

He froze at the entrance to his cubicle. Handsome Jack was sitting in his chair, feet up on his desk, leaning back casually as he ate a donut.

Mouth fumbling over silence, Rhys seemed to have dropped his ability to talk a few paces behind him. He stood mutely a few feet from where his boss had made himself at home in the modest little work space.

Jack popped the last bite of the sprinkle donut into his mouth, dropping crumbs on the floor. “Mmpf - like yer choice oof office decor,” he chewed noisily, nodding to the posters of his own face plastered above Rhys’ desk.

Embarrassment was the push he needed to regain speech. Sputtering, Rhys choked on his own spit as he hastily tried to explain. “They, uh, they’re company issue motivational posters, sir,” he stated lamely, his face hot.

Jack crooked an eyebrow at him skeptically, flicking the sprinkles from his fingers before wiping his hands on his jacket. “Hey, so long as this handsome mug doesn’t distract you from your work, you can put whatever you want on your walls,” Jack snorted.

Dropping his feet off the surface off the desk, Jack’s toe kicked Rhys’ keyboard to the floor with a clatter. Paying it no mind, the CEO swivelled in the chair, leaning back as he gave Rhys a once over.

“I uh, thought I was supposed to meet with Wilhelm later,” Rhys tacked on a hasty “sir” at the end of his statement, groaning in silent dismay as he saw several keys break off to join the scattering of yellow and white sprinkles on the floor.

Jack stood, his easy confidence making him seem much to large to be contained in the sad little cubicle. He motioned for Rhys to get out of the way. “Things change, cupcake,” He replied as he breezed past.

Not waiting to be told, Rhys followed, doing his best to keep up with the CEO’s quick strides without looking like a child being led.

The unannounced appearance of Jack added a substantial weight to the pressure Rhys was already feeling. Still, it was an easier burden to bear as co-workers gapped as he walked astride Hyperion’s CEO.

Unable to stop himself, Rhys sought out Vasquez again. Sure enough, his bearded rival stood peering out of his own cubicle, jaw dropped in bewildered anger as he watched Rhys walk away with Handsome Jack.

Alright that was worth it, right there, Rhys thought smugly.

Despite his gangly legs and long stride, Rhys still struggled to keep pace with Jack. The CEO didn’t talk or look at him. Rhys followed silently, watching as people literally jumped out of their path. A nervous smile pulled at his lips as two employees, who’d been chatting in the hall, crashed into each other in their haste to move out of their way.

Was it…was it bad that he was kind of enjoying this? Sure, it was Jack’s presence causing his fellow co-workers to flee, but it still felt really good sharing this aura that demanded respect, even if only for a while.

After passing a few more terrified workers, Jack stopped in front of the executive elevator. Rhys swallowed a lump in his throat. Were they headed to Jack’s office? He’d never been to the executive level, but him and Vaughn often wondered what lavish amenities the floor offered, usually when they were both stuck putting in gruelling overtime hours.

It was a sort of holy grail in their Hyperion career, both of them dreaming that one day their hard work would land them a cushy spot on the most exclusive level of the space station.

“Well?” Jack barked as he slipped into the elevator, waiting impatiently for Rhys to follow suit.

 _Vaughn is going to freak_ , Rhys thought with barely contained glee as he hastily pulled himself out of his day dreams.

Determined to play it cool, Rhys kept his face impassive once they were through the doors of Jack’s office. He tried not to gawk at the huge, open space, the giant busts lining the path up to the CEO's desk, or the massive window taking up nearly all of the back wall.

Internally he was screaming because he didn’t know a single person in his division, aside from maybe the department head, who had stood where he was currently standing.

In Handsome Jack’s office. With Handsome Jack.

No, Rhys thought smugly, _by invitation of_ Handsome Jack.

“Sit,” Jack commanded. Trying to shrug off the feeling of a dog being trained, Rhys dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. There was an extra computer set up with the holomonitor facing Rhys, the screen locked.

“Meg!” Jack snapped suddenly, making Rhys jump.

He heard a slightly shrill voice answer over his shoulder. He turned in his seat to see who he assumed was Jack’s assistant. He hadn’t even noticed her follow them in.

Meg took a few steps forward to hover uncertainly near the CEO’s desk. “Y-yes, sir?” she asked timidly.

“Coffee, now.”

“Yes, sir…”

Meg continued to hover, staring at Rhys, unsure if he was an underling to be ignored or a guest in need of tending to. Her eyes grew increasingly wide with trepidation as they rapidly darted from Rhys to Jack and back again, her mouth opening then snapping shut.

Jack rolled his eyes and threw his head back to stare at the high ceiling, releasing a loud, exasperated groan. “Fricken’ hell, Meg. You are utterly useless.” His gaze dropped back to Rhys. “Coffee?”

Rhys shook his head, shooting an apologetic smile Meg’s way. Her eyes still wide, Meg, looking both relieved and as if ready to cry, rushed off, heels clacking.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Jack switched gears, resting his elbows on on polished desk, wide fingers steepled in front of his face. “I didn’t bring you up here for a tea party, you’ve got work to do.”

Rhys nodded mutely and looked to the monitor in front of him, the cursor in the “username” field winking back at him. He looked to Jack expectantly.

The CEO’s face was impassive, but the corner of his mouth twitched behind his hands as if he was trying to keep a straight face. “Type,” he began, and Rhys readied his fingers over the keyboard.

“‘LeggyTwink404,’ capital L and T, with two exclamation points at the end.”

Rhys’ fingers froze on the keyboard, sure Jack was messing with him. He looked up, and sure enough the older man was shooting him a mocking grin.

“Well?” He motioned for Rhys to get to it. Rhys’ fingers did as they were told, looking back to Jack incredulously for the password next.

“Password, 'ExplodingTorgueForeskin,' all the ‘e’s’ are the number 3, question mark at the end.”

Rhys stared at him, unsure if he should laugh or not.

“C’mon princess, you can at least follow directions, can’t you?” Jack grit out impatiently, waiting for Rhys to continue.

Exhaling in defeat, Rhys filled in the ridiculous password, wondering if this was part of an elaborate joke, also wondering vaguely where his boss came up with this stuff.

Clicking enter, half expecting a prank, Rhys was surprised to be taken to a program similar to the hacking program he used, though this interface was far more sophisticated than what he was accustomed to. It looked like what he'd used as the stepping stone for the Maliwan SMG hacking job, but from what he could tell, this was a gateway to even more, larger networks.

Jack was still grinning at him. “Not gonna forget that username and password combo in a hurry now are you, pumpkin,” He snorted. “Anyway, like I said, before you get cozy with Wilhelm, we've got something more important to get outta the way first.” Jack leaned forward, a sinister gleam in his eyes, making Rhys shrink slightly.

When Jack launched into the same “Tell anyone what you’re doing or get caught and I will end you messily” spiel Rhys had heard at least three times already, Rhys couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes.

“Sir, I don’t even know what the work is yet, but you must have read my file,” he ran his mouth, instantly wondering if this was out of line as the words left him.

Jack’s steepled fingers covered his mouth, but his gaze was intent on the younger man, calculating. Swallowing, Rhys elaborated. “I just mean, sir, I’ve worked hard for Hyperion, my record should speak for itself.”

Jack snorted. “Working hard for Hyperion? Or looking out for number one?”

“Sir?”

“As a matter of fact, kiddo, I have read your file.” He paused a moment, staring intently at his underling. "And it does speak volumes."

The sound of Meg’s heels returned as she rushed back in with Jack’s coffee, depositing the mug near his elbow, spilling a few drops in her haste to escape. “Gold stars for being slightly less idiotic than 80% of the assholes here,” Jack said sardonically, paying no mind to his retreating assistant. “But no less vindictive.”

Rhys was determined not to look away from the piercing gaze the CEO was fixing him.

“You think your buddy in sales would vouch for you? After that eridium deal?”

“...Oh.”

The humour had drained from Jack’s face, his blue and green eyes cold. “Yeah. _Oh_.”

He rose from his seat, palms flat on the desktop as he loomed menacingly, eyes narrowed as he peered down his nose at Rhys. “I expect that from my employees, hell even encourage ‘em to play dirty if it leads to progress,” he continued, not masking the threat in his tone.

“But you try to fuck me over, Rhysie, and oh boy, will you be sorry.”

Rhys swallowed. There was a comfortable space between them, yet it felt like Jack was breathing down his neck. A prickling shiver ran over his skin as he cleared his throat.

“I…listen, I know it looks bad,” he started uneasily. “But I saw Stevens’ numbers and they were all wrong.”

Jack’s expectant silence urged him on. “I mean, everyone knew about his project, he never shut up about it,” Rhys added, somewhat venomously. “But when I poked around in his files, all his projections and forecasts were based on crappy calculations and poor data, he would have lost us millions closing the deal on that.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “‘ _Us_ ’?” He asked sharply.

Rhys swallowed again. “Hyperion. I did what needed to be done in the best interest of the company.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his robotic hand. “I’m not gonna lie and say there was nothing in it for me,” he added hastily. “But I’ve dreamed of working for a corporation like this all my life, and if Hyperion does well because of my work, that’s a huge personal gain right there.”

The CEO continued to loom as Rhys’ words gave way to silence. Something shifted in Jack’s demeanour, something imperceptible that Rhys felt with a tangible change in the air.

Rhys was getting nervous as the silence extended, until Jack relented, visibly more relaxed.

“Alright, kiddo, untwist those panties. You've made it clear you're still looking out for numero uno, and I gotta say I'd be more suspicious if you'd left that part out." Jack's voice dropped low, almost a growl, making Rhys' skin prickle. "So, you'll only screw people over if they try to screw Hyperion, huh? Good to hear, Rhysie. Like I said though, you wanna remain employed, you’ll work that skinny ass off, keep your mouth shut and put those hacking skills to whatever use I see fit.”

“I can do that, sir.”

“We’ll see,” Jack smirked dangerously. He waved his hand dismissively, moving on.

“So. Bet you’re just aching’ to know what you’re gonna be working on, huh, pumpkin?”

Feeling his heartbeat skip, Rhys nodded obediently.

The older man crossed his arms over his broad chest and turned toward the massive window, strolling idly to stand inches from the thick glass. “Let me paint you a little picture here, kiddo,” He started, his back to Rhys.

“Imagine being stuck in some wasteland, lost, alone, hunted by god knows what. You have no idea where you are, what your next meal’ll be, or how to kill the slobbering beasts at your heels.”

Rhys marvelled at the transformation as he listened, watching the CEO with rapt attention. In the span of a few short seconds, all trace of the rude, crass Jack had melted away to the shrewd professional speaking now, confident and articulate. It was now somehow unbelievable that this was the same man who'd come up with the “ExplodingTorgueForeskin” password, Rhys mused.

Jack continued, the purple glow from Elpis blurring the sharp lines of his silhouette, his reflection in the glass too faint for Rhys to make out his expression.

Finally meeting Jack face to face had, with the constant jabs and rude innuendo, been a bit of a disappointment, if Rhys was honest. But this, Rhys thought, this was a glimpse of the man who had inspired him all those years ago, the man from the Hyperion recruitment posters. In this moment, Jack was all charisma and enigmatic charm.

“Imagine, in that hellhole, that the key to your survival's not only within reach, but part of you, constantly learning and adapting and guiding you. All you need to do is look at what’s hunting you to find its weak spots, to find a hidden exit from some psycho murder maze, to track down amazing treasures no one’s even dreamed of with just the blink of an eye.”

He was silent for a moment, pausing for effect, and hell if it wasn’t working, Rhys thought, catching himself literally holding his breath.

Jack turned away from the window swiftly, his outer layers swishing around him dramatically, lips wide over a wolfish grin.

“That, Rhysie, is what you’re gonna help me build.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides in with an update after 6 months* Sorry it took so long, this was a hard chapter to do pacing wise, and I hope it's not a disappointment after such a long break D: 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around for this one, I'll try not to leave such a big gap between this and the next update!


	7. Unknowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axton still doesn't have the answers, and Rhys offers nothing but surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert but the tags are updated again ^^;;

“QR-0-77 what’s your status? Why aren’t you at your post?!”

 _Someone’s mad_ , Axton thought, wincing slightly at the speaker's volume. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to cook up an excuse, hadn’t given this much thought at all, actually, as he stomped down the hallway.

“I’m uh…not feelin’ good,” he lied, throwing in some half-hearted coughs as an afterthought.

“Your vitals are all good,” the voice in his helmet snapped back. “No fever, no signs of distress —“

 _Goddamnit_ , Axton silently cursed. Why did Hyperion have to have such high tech armour? Wasn’t it enough it stopped bullets, did it have to give him a physical too?

“Maybe it’s busted,” Axton tried, coughing again, attempting his best, most agonized groan for good measure. “I really don’t feel good, chief, gonna lay low in my hab until next shift.”

“QR-0-77 may I remind you of the proper protocol —“

Axton rolled his eyes, tuning out the list of regulations he was breaking by walking off shift.

It’d been a shitty week, and honestly, Axton thought darkly, walking off an hour before his shift ended was the mildest form of protest he could think of.

After the former Head of Security had been “forcibly removed,” the vacancy had been expediently filled, apparently before the body had even gone cold, if station gossip was to be believed. The new Chief of Security was a grizzled man everyone referred to simply as The Admiral. In his late fifties, missing an ear, and sporting one of the most impressive beards Axton had ever laid eyes on, The Admiral was not a man to be messed with.

When he’d asked some of the senior guards what The Admiral’s story was, no one seemed eager to divulge any details, and Axton’s prodding for information was met with uncomfortable silence and hasty changes of subject.

One thing was clear though; The Admiral ran a tight ship. So tight, in fact, that Axton felt he’d had it easy back in the Dahl military. With the random and constant security drills, armour and weapons inspections, mandatory after-shift training sessions, plus sharp increase in written reports, Axton felt like his life had taken an unexpected and entirely unwelcome U-turn.

When he’d got the comm that he was to report for a mandatory Riot Procedure Drill at the end of his shift, rather than make his way to the training facility near Central Security, Axton had simply walked away from his post. He'd had the presence of mind to stow his sidearm at the armoury as he passed, but otherwise could care less what other rules he'd broke. 

The list of his infractions was still going as he stomped down the hall toward his living quarters. He passed a few fellow guards heading in the opposite direction, but no one paid him much mind.

“What’s that?” Axton interrupted, the door of his apartment coming into view. “You’re breaking up.”

“I said -“

Axton made loud gurgling and hacking noises into his comm.

“Looks like the suit’s real broke! Hcckktt — feel awful — phhttzzzz - back Monday — ”

He switched off his HUD just as the voice on the other end started screaming about disciplinary action.

That would cost him, but he honestly didn’t much care.

He’d already been fed up with this crap job when it’d just been a boring, badly regulated time sink. Now that it was a crap job that left him frustrated and angry after each shift, he was ready to take the next shuttle anywhere but here.

Irritably jabbing the keypad to his hab suite as if each number had personally wronged him, Axton all but kicked the door in once it was unlocked. Slamming the door shut gave him some satisfaction, but once he was inside, he crumpled back against the door.

Staring at his empty apartment, still in full Hyperion armor, he suddenly felt deflated even of anger.

He’d already been at this job way longer than he’d originally intended. The time he’d sought to think things over ticked away rapidly without much progress. He might as well go back to bounty gigs, at least they were actually fun.

His helmet thunked against the door as he tilted his head back with a sigh. Why was he still here at all?

A light knock at the door brought him out of his reprieve.

Gritting his teeth behind his helmet, Axton turned back to the door and yanked it open with a growled “What?!”

Having expected to see one of his superiors fetching him for that disciplinary action he’d been threatened with, he was taken aback to see Rhys standing in the hall, shrinking from the vicious greeting, one arm raised reflexively as if shielding himself from a blow.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Rhys,” Axton hastily grumbled out, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway. It was bad enough he’d probably earned himself a pay cut and a month of sewer level patrols with his behaviour today. Now he could add feeling like garbage for scaring the crap out of his boyfriend to the list of the day’s accomplishments.

“Axton?” Rhys asked cautiously, his voice small as he dropped his arm. Remembering he was still in his security officer gear, Axton fumbled hastily with the clasps at his neck. “Sorry, Darlin’,” he repeated, shame still boiling hot in the pit of his stomach as he tucked his helmet under his arm.

“Is…now not a good time?”

“What? Nah, c’mon in,” Axton said, stepping aside and ushering Rhys in a little over zealously.

“I thought you had to work late again tonight,” Axton mentioned casually as he closed the door, locking it incase he was due a visit from Central.

“Got a lot more done than expected,” Rhys replied cheerfully as he took a few steps forward. He hovered in the entryway at the edge of the small living room, as if second guessing whether he was welcome or not. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you’d be off yet,” He continued, turning back towards the entrance, eyes roving intently over Axton’s getup. “But was hoping you were so I could give you this -“

He held out his robotic arm, dangling a hefty-looking paper bag. Reaching around Rhys to set his helmet on the sofa armrest behind him, Axton took the offering. A mouth watering medley of aromas wafted out when he opened the bag, which was filled with several takeout containers.

Rhys smiled warmly as Axton looked up from the contents quizzically. “You seemed pretty down on the last few ECHOs, thought maybe some good food would cheer you up, so I splurged a bit and —”

The caramel coloured eyes darted away somewhat sheepishly when Axton said nothing. “It might not be much but —“

Leaning forward, Axton cut him off with a soft kiss.

Rhys had been worried about him. Rhys had wanted to cheer him up. Rhys had brought him a gift.

And Axton had almost bit his head off in the hallway.

He tried to put his gratitude and apology into the kiss, slipping his tongue past parted lips, stroking it against Rhys’. His message seemed well-received given the quiet sigh Rhys let out as it deepened. Axton felt flesh and metallic palms press lightly on either side of his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones and the stubble on his jaw.

“Mmm, you’re welcome,” Rhys purred as he pulled away, hands trailing down to trace the hard edges of the armoured chest plate. Axton chuckled, pecking him lightly on the nose. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, setting the bag down on the couch near his helmet, freeing his hands. His plated fingers closed over the small of his boyfriend’s back, pulling the other man flush against the metal and ceramic plates of his suit.

“Seein’ you on my doorstep is cheerin’ me up plenty.” Leaning in again, his words were murmured against Rhys’ neck, pulse thrumming under his lips as he kissed along the taught tendons. “Let me get outta this monkey suit and I’ll give ya a proper welcome,” he promised slyly, sucking at the skin in the centre of Rhys’ circular tattoos.

A desperate little noise escaped Rhys’ throat in answer, but he pushed away, putting some distance between them to look Axton up and down. This wasn’t the first time Rhys had seen him in his work uniform, Axton thought, and raised an eyebrow at the keen interest the company man was paying it.

“Um…this might be weird but…” Rhys trailed off, idly tracing the raised edges making up the collar of the suit with his fingers. He averted his eyes as he continued. “But…do you think…you could…”

Axton looked on in confusion as colour rose to the other man’s cheeks as he waited. Chewing on his lip before returning Axton’s gaze, face now an impressive shade of humiliation, Rhys swallowed.

“Could you…leave the suit on?”

A whoosh of air escaped Axton’s lungs and he felt a rush of heat in his groin at the unexpected request. In the wake of Axton’s pause, Rhys fumbled over his words hastily. “You don’t have to if you don’t want — I mean I know it’s kind of —“

Rhys yelped as Axton gripped him by the shoulders and spun him around to face the wall. Keeping one hand on Rhys’ shoulder, he reached out to the couch arm rest with the other for his helmet.

“Palms against the wall,” Axton drawled. His next words came out muffled by the helmet. “And spread your legs.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, Rhys nodded, promptly doing as he was told. He pressed his hands flat against the wall of the entryway, widening his stance as he cast a furtive look over his shoulder, ears and neck now as flushed as his face.

Axton took a hunkering step forward, toeing one of the company man’s long legs out further, pressing himself just close enough for Rhys to feel the edges and cool surfaces of his suit.

He double checked that none of the comm or video links of his HUD were open; he may be a reckless hothead at times, but he wasn’t stupid, and doubted Rhys would appreciate all of Helios security getting a free show.

Confirming there’d be no embarrassing surprises, Axton snaked his arms around Rhys’ chest, gloved palms flat over the neatly pressed dress shirt, patting down his torso lightly. Travelling lower, he ran his armoured fingers down over the pinstripes on Rhys’ thighs, and knelt down to grip slender ankles.

“Nice socks,” Axton whispered, unable to resist, seeing the bubblegum pink and cyan polkadots peeking above the skag skin boots. Rhys let out a startled snort of laughter before regaining his composure.

Grinning on his way back up, Axton ran his hands up over the back of Rhys’ calves and thighs to roughly cup his rear.

Rhys inhaled sharply as Axton leaned in close, the mouthpiece of the helmet cold against his ear. “Are you concealing any weapons or illegal contraband?” He growled, squeezing Rhys’ ass for emphasis. “Helios Security has harsh penalties for possession of either.” Rhys shook his head, maintaining his wide stance against the wall. “N-nothing,” he breathed, minutely pressing back into the firm grip.

Axton dug into the back pockets of the slacks. A lopsided grin broke beneath his helmet as his thick gloves closed somewhat clumsily over the familiar items Rhys had the foresight to bring.

“Big plans tonight?” He whispered, the distortion of the helmet making his voice rough like gravel.

A visible shiver running through his body, Rhys licked his lips nervously, playing along. “Just being prepared, officer.”

Pressing forward, he forced Rhys flush against the wall, eliciting a sharp gasp as the other man was sandwiched snugly between the hard surface and unyielding security officer at his back. “I like a man who plans ahead,” Axton murmured, leaving the lube and condom where they were for now as he busied his hands, stroking up and down Rhys’ body hungrily.

“However, protocol demands I do a more thorough search,” Axton whispered, grinding his hips for emphasis.

It was hard to deny that Rhys was definitely into this. The slight shake of his hands as they tensed against the wall, the rapid breathing when he’d barely been touched yet. Axton was finding it very warm inside the confines of his suit as he watched the effect this little scene was having.

He’d never be able to wear his uniform without seeing this mental picture again.

Axton had limited sense of touch through the protective gloves, but he could tell when his armoured fingertips brushed roughly over Rhys’ nipples when he heard a gasping exhale.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, officer,” Rhys groaned, his head thrown back as Axton circled his fingers harshly. Slim hips bumped back into the suit’s codpiece. “There’s no reason to hold me here, is there?”

 _Learnin’ all kinds of new things about you today, huh, Darlin’_ , Axton thought wryly. He was impressed with Rhys’ on-the-fly role-playing. Or, Axton wondered, glad his look of bewilderment was concealed, if this was something Rhys had thought about before.

This was a first for Axton, but he sure as hell was enjoying it so far, though not being able to feel the heat of Rhys’ body through the hard plating was a definite downside. He ached for closer contact, his rapidly growing hard-on trapped behind the confines of the armour, but seeing how much Rhys was loving this whole thing was more than enough incentive to draw it out.

His hands slid over Rhys’ navel down to the button of his slacks. Rhys shifted in an attempt to create more space for Axton to work with the garment, but he was caged in so tight there was little room to maneuverer.

“I can think of a few reasons to keep you here,” Axton rumbled against his captive’s ear, withdrawing the packet of lube from Rhys’ back pocket. He pushed the pants and boxers down, the fabric whispering against Rhys’ legs as it fell to pool at his feet.

Keeping Rhys pinned with his body, Axton ripped open the packet. He paused, debating whether to take off his glove or not. He knew their suits were all pressure washed and sanitized nightly, at least his would have been tonight if he’d followed procedure and stowed it in the locker room before storming off. So it wasn’t like they were especially filthy or anything.

Decision made, he doused one of his armour plated fingers with lube, dropping the empty wrapper carelessly as he grabbed Rhys’ buttock with his other hand, thumb spreading him as best he could.

It was apparently the right choice, judging by the way Rhys’ knees shook and he moaned a little too fervently for just having a finger pressed against him, not even entering, as Axton dragged the armoured digit round the puckered entrance.

He continued teasing, applying just a hint of pressure with his blunt fingertip, not enough to penetrate, before sliding it around again teasingly, leaving the skin slick in its wake.

Rhys’ hands balled into fists against the wall, his hips pressing back impatiently. The utterly depraved sound the company man made as Axton pushed in his armour encased finger made him shiver.

The eager response and Rhys’ quiet chanting of “Oh fuck oh god…” had Axton pressing in past the knuckle with a little less care than he’d normally exercise.

Biting his lip, he watching Rhys writhe on the unfamiliar shape and texture of the intrusion. The other man cried out in surprise as a second digit inched in, a bit more cautiously, following the slicked path of the first. It was only two, but the gloves added substantial girth to each finger.

Forehead against the wall, Rhys pressed back desperately for more as Axton fingered him, the dulled edges of the protective gear swirling and dragging in and out of the tight passage.

Patience well past its end, Axton fumbled hurriedly with the clasps for his codpiece, which took more effort than usual with one hand slippery with lube.

As the protective covering fell loudly to the floor, Axton signed with relief, parting the opening in his undersuit, freeing his erection, the still air of the apartment cool on his overheated skin.

Rhys turned to face him, peering into the anonymous red optic of the helmet with heavy-lidded eyes. His fingers trailed over the seams and joints of the suit, his own length leaking and bobbing as he dropped down to his knees between the fully armoured guard and the wall.

Axton growled low in his throat as warm breath ghosted over his tip before Rhys’ mouth engulfed him, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, tongue lathing every ridge and vein.

Leaning forward, gloves flat over the space Rhys’ hands had held, Axton watched Rhys glide over his cock, lips tight, palms resting on the thick yellow thigh plates.  
  
He struggled to come up with something clever or in character to say, but his attempts were lost in the fog of pleasure creeping through his body. Rhys peered up at him as he sucked him off, eyes hazy with lust, looking up into the helmet optic where Axton gazed back unseen.

Disjointed, half-formed thoughts swam through Axton’s mind as his body gave itself over to sensation. In this scenario, Rhys was staring at a stranger, an anonymous tryst with a cloaked figure, but Axton realized with some misgivings that the opposite was closer to reality.

Axton kept very few, if any secrets. He’d shared the abridged version of his work and relationship history on their first date. He’d divulged details about his family, and anecdotes from his military days in their subsequent conversations in person and over their ECHOs.

While he was an open book, Rhys always seemed to divert conversation away from anything that reached deeper than the surface. It didn’t seem to be out of malice or shame, and Rhys was certainly free with his physical desires, but Axton couldn't help but feel he hardly knew the only person keeping him on this space station.

He groaned again as Rhys pulled back, tongue dancing over his leaking slit before suckling at the tip eagerly.

Mentally chastising himself for the untimely introspection, Axton rocked forward gently, his forearms resting against the wall as he delved back deep into Rhys’ mouth.

It was still early, he thought, there would be time for all that personal shit later.

The rip of plastic foil and the sudden rush of cool air on his skin was an effective kick back to the moment. His cock twitched as Rhys rolled on the condom in one fluid motion.

Hardly giving Rhys time to finish, Axton pulled him up off the ground and into his arms. Back suddenly pressed into the wall, Rhys gasped in surprise, but recovered quickly, wrapping his bare legs around Axton’s waist, heeled boots locking in place as best he could as his skin slipped over the armour.

It was a bit awkward, but using the wall and Rhys’ grip around his shoulders and midsection for leverage, Axton guided himself in.

Rhys swore, throwing his head back. A long moan rumbled out of the helmet mouthpiece as Axton buried himself to the hilt, gripping Rhys’ hips tightly once he was fully sheathed.

Steeling himself, giving them both time to adjust, he took in the sight in his arms.

Rhys looked almost drunk on pleasure, tie and dress shirt draping over his torso in a dishevelled mess, his length heavy against the wrinkled folds, wet spots forming where copious amounts of pre weeped into the fabric. His chest rose and fell rapidly in ragged breaths, his high cheekbones blushed a deep scarlet.

Eyes drawn to where skin and armour met, there was hardly space between them as Rhys tightened his hold. There were small red welts on the soft skin of Rhys’ thighs where the rougher edges of the suit rubbed against him as he clung to Axton.

It was strange not being able to feel that skin against his own, with the only point of direct contact being where they were joined. Sweat beaded on Axton’s skin beneath his helmet as he rocked up into Rhys experimentally.

Rhys’ voice was hoarse as he cried out as Axton shifted inside of him. Putting more force behind the movement, Axton thrust up harder, jostling Rhys in his arms.

“A-axton,” Rhys gasped, dropping all pretence of their role-play. Axton grunted in response as he shifted on his feet for better traction, adjusting the angle of their bodies, hands gripping Rhys’ hips tighter.

“Better hold on tight, Darlin’.”

It was rough and fast. Rhys was white knuckled as he gripped the shoulder plates, each deep stroke of Axton’s cock within him eliciting a broken “Ah!”

Axton held him tight against the wall, throwing his weight into every unforgiving thrust. It was now almost unbearably hot inside his suit, sweat pooling between his shoulder blades, rolling down his navel as his muscles tensed with effort, bouncing Rhys in his arms, slamming his hips up as he chased climax.

Cries of wordless encouragement spilled from Rhys’ lips as he was fucked against the wall, his long legs squeezed tight, greedily pulling Axton into him, his cock, slick and dripping, slid against the smooth plates covering Axton's abdomen.

Thrusts growing sloppy as the coil of heat within him tightened to bursting, something tickled the back of Axton’s memory. A devilish grin spread across his lips, he closed what small space there was between them as he mouthed near Rhys’ ear.

“Remember…Back in that elevator,” he panted, hips hammering out their erratic rhythm. He was so close, his fingers digging into Rhys’ skin. “Would you have let me fuck you like this?”

Rhys came loud and hard, fingers and legs scrabbling against the smooth armour as his body tensed, voice cracking as he shouted Axton’s name, splattering the yellow armour with his release.

Axton drove forward, holding Rhys flush against him as he tipped over the edge, orgasm flooding through him, drawn out as Rhys’ body pulsed around him.

Spots danced in his vision as he came down from his high. His arms and legs felt like rubber, suddenly weak and shaking as the tension left his body. He eased out of Rhys slowly, setting the other man down on his feet.

Rhys wobbled slightly when his heeled boots hit the ground. Clutching Axton’s shoulders for balance, he leaned back against the wall, still working to catch his breath.

Easing his helmet off, finally, Axton let it drop with a clatter. Pulling the condom off his softening length, he tied and tossed it gingerly near the couch for disposal later. Breathing in the smell of sweat and sex that permeated the air, he nuzzled Rhys’ sweat damp hair.

“So? Would you have?” he drawled lazily.

Rhys answered with a confused mumble.

“That night, when I was heading to R&D.”

Rhys seemed to regain some of his ability to function and squinted at Axton blearily before realization dawned on him. “You mean…when you were shamelessly flirting with me on that elevator?”

Axton hummed, kissing Rhys’ forehead. “I was layin’ it on pretty thick,” Axton conceeded. “But if I’d known you had a thing for men in uniform like this —“

“I guess you’ll just never know,” Rhys teased back, tracing the prominent scar on Axton’s chin. He brushed the old wound with his lips tenderly before gently pushing the larger man away so he could retrieve his pants.

Smirking, Axton busied himself with the clasps of his armour. "You're staying for dinner, I hope," Axton asked, nodding toward the bag of food. Rhys hummed in affirmation as he pulled on his slacks. Pleased, Axton carried on. “There anything fun happening on this space station tomorrow?” He let his arm guards pile on the floor along with his helmet. “Or can we just hole up here for a good time?”

Rhys shook his head, plopping down on the couch once he’d tucked his shirt back into his slacks. “I have work.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

Rhys ran his flesh fingers through his hair, a wide grin pulling at his lips. “Actually, I kind of got a promotion today.”

Axton stopped fiddling with his armour. A strange and unwanted ache rose in his chest.

“What?”

Rhys preened proudly, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I’m going to be working on the exec level,” he continued, failing somewhat to cooly mask his excitememt. He looked like he’d been bursting to spill the details, his eyes bright like a school kid’s showing off a high mark. “But it does mean some extra hours and —“

Rhys continued, listing off new responsibilities and the new places his employee card would get him in to, oblivious to the inner turmoil Axton was fighting.

Ashamed, Axton forced down the creeping ache, clearing the hard lump in his throat as he finally freed himself from the last bits of armour.

“That’s great, Rhys,” he piped in, wincing slightly at the strange pitch his voice took. Rhys, at least, didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks, Axton,” Rhys answered, pushing off the couch. “I can take you for breakfast tomorrow, before work, if you’re up for it. To celebrate.”

Axton chuckled. “Found the way to my heart, huh. Hot food and a hot ass,” he teased, slapping Rhys’ rear playfully. Rhys rolled his eyes, slapping Axton back. “Never say that again please,” he laughed. “C’mon, it’ll be nice, and not too early.”

“Alright, Sugar,” Axtron drawled, running his thumb along Rhys jaw. “I’m game.” He pulled his boyfriend to him for a lazy press of lips and tongue.

“But I’m buyin’.” 


End file.
